


Chameleon

by Pamela Rose (pamela_rose)



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23864530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pamela_rose/pseuds/Pamela%20Rose
Summary: Sometimes you do what you must to survive.  And sometimes it's what you wanted all along.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Original Male Character(s), James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 9
Kudos: 40





	Chameleon

Kirk was already having trouble with the shuttlecraft, but not nearly enough to make him consider turning back. If Scotty followed orders, it would be too late anyway. The Enterprise would now be enroute to deliver medical supplies to the Goshen Colony.

_And Mr. Scott always follows orders, Kirk thought grimly, even if it means leaving Spock on some hellish planet . . ._ But he knew he was being unfair to the chief engineer. Scott had no choice but to follow Spock’s orders and take the Enterprise out of the star system. As it was, he had kept the ship exposed to the interference long enough to damage the sensors severely and require nearly a week of repairs before they could limp back to Starbase 11.

That had been the situation when Scott turned command back to its Captain upon reaching the base. Not exactly a cheerful homecoming for a man who had been on sick leave for over a month. Kirk had felt furious, helpless, and terribly frightened for Spock and the crewmen who had been lost in the shuttle with him.

To make things worse, Admiral Komack refused to permit Kirk to take the Enterprise back to the Mako system for a rescue attempt. Too many ships had been lost in that area, and the Admiral didn’t consider the chances for success to be worth risking a starship. In fact, he pompously stated that he intended to have the entire area declared off-limits at the next Council session. And added some rather scathing comments regarding Spock’s foolishness in answering a distress call from a vessel that wasn’t even a member of the Federation. In the Admiral’s haughty opinion, the Vulcan’s only intelligent action in the entire situation was to use the shuttlecraft and leave orders with Mr. Scott to return immediately to the Starbase if communications with the shuttle were lost.

Kirk hadn’t wasted his breath or his time arguing with him; Komack was too rigid and rule bound to see past his gold braid. The Captain made his own plans and carried them through ruthlessly, ignoring Scott’s objections, and keeping McCoy in the dark as much as possible. He was too worried about Spock to go through a useless debate with the Doctor before doing what he had to do. McCoy would have insisted on accompanying him, and that Kirk could not allow. Komack was right on one point. It was dangerous—perhaps even hopeless.

All of Kirk’s attention was forced back to the present and to controlling the shuttle. It was becoming more difficult to handle as he neared the only habitable planet in the system. There was an unusual magnetic field in the Mako system that wreaked havoc with the sensors and made navigation close to impossible. He struggled to keep the small craft on course as the turbulence increased. Once entering the planet’s atmosphere, it was a case of steering the shuttle to a, more or less, controlled crash landing. The impact was rough, but the ship came to a stop in one piece, and most of the instruments seemed to be in working order. The atmosphere must have filtered out much of the interference.

Kirk wiped the blood from a small gash on his forehead and stood shakily. Checking the instruments, he noted that the atmosphere and temperature outside were acceptable and breathed a short prayer that this was where the missing shuttle had also landed. If not, there wasn’t a chance that Spock and the ensigns could still be alive. And Spock had to be alive. He had to be.

Pushing aside all doubts and worries for the present, Kirk picked up a tricorder, slapped a phaser onto his belt, and opened the hatch cautiously. The shuttlecraft had landed in a field of orange-red grain, closely resembling wheat. He activated the tricorder, searching for signs of wreckage or metal from the missing shuttle. He’d picked up some strong readings in this area earlier, before his sensors had become too erratic to trust, and now he caught them again, a couple of kilometers to the west. Quickly he set off in that direction, feeling more anxious with every step.

He had no trouble locating the shuttlecraft. It had crashed against a boulder and one side of it was crushed. Kirk felt a knot of fear clutch his stomach. From the condition of the craft, someone had to have been hurt very badly, if not killed outright. At this moment, the ship was being zealously disassembled by what were obviously natives of this planet. Kirk stepped back behind a large tree, considering the situation carefully.

The inhabitants were smooth, hairless spheres, with several protruding tentacles that manipulated the tools easily as they cut up the shuttlecraft into movable sections. They moved with great grace and speed on hundreds of delicate centipede-type legs. Before Kirk could make up his mind on what to do next, several voices called out, startling him.

“We see you, intruder. You trespass.”

The voices were very melodic, almost musical. For a second he thought it was telepathic contact, but he was sure he could also hear the tones very clearly. He turned to face the cluster of figures behind him. Quick tentacles neatly plucked the phaser and communicator from his belt before he could react, while others removed the tricorder by neatly severing the strap that held it over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Kirk said carefully. “I mean no harm. I’m searching for two friends who were lost here by accident. This was their ship.”

“You do not belong here,” came the reply. “You trespass. This cannot be permitted.”

“As soon as I can locate my friends, we will leave,” Kirk assured them.

“Your friends also intruded. That was not permitted.”

Kirk took a step forward. “What did you do to them? Are they all right? They didn’t intend to come here; it was an accident. Where are they? Did you kill them—”

“We do not kill,” the creatures broke in gently, still in unison. “We cannot take life.”

Kirk relaxed slightly. “Do you know where they are?”

“We will take you.”

He hesitated, then followed them, finding he had to quicken his pace to keep up.

He didn’t like the situation—some sixth sense telling him something wasn’t quite right—but the natives seemed intelligent and civilized. Although they obviously wanted to maintain their privacy, he somehow believed them when they said they would not kill.

After nearly an hour, they came to a large cave in the face of a cliff. Kirk peered in cautiously, stopping himself before he walked off the edge in the dim light into a pit dropping down about four meters. There was some kind of light at the bottom, and he could see it led off into another tunnel.

As Kirk started to turn back to question his escort, several sets of tentacles pushed him firmly over the edge. He didn’t have time to prepare himself well for the fall, and it knocked the breath out of him soundly when he hit the sandy floor.

“If your friends still breathe,” the natives called down cheerfully, “you will find them here. This is where we place all those who intrude upon our world.”

Kirk recovered himself and stood, looking up. “Why? All I want to do is find my friends and leave. We have no intention of harming you or—”

“We have had many beings come here,” they cut in again. “This cannot be allowed. We were forced to create a confinement area for outsiders who might disturb the tranquility of our home. You cannot be permitted to wander freely, frightening our young ones and trampling our grain with your clumsy big limbs.”

“But we only wish to leave here,” Kirk protested.

“We cannot be certain of that, or that you would not return with even more friends. Our method is far more practical. You will be confined so we will not have to be concerned with any damage you might do.”

“Wait!” Kirk called out, as a heavy, metal grill was slid slowly into place over the top of the pit. They ignored his protests, and soon he was left alone.

He shrugged fatalistically and looked around. At least he knew where Spock was—if he was still alive. He forced the last thought from his mind. Spock’s death was something he would never be able to accept without direct proof. Somehow, he felt the Vulcan was invincible, indestructible—the way he felt about the Enterprise. They had survived so many close calls that Kirk had an illogical certainty that Spock had made it through this one, too.

The tunnel was large and airy, dimly lit at intervals by some type of chemical torches. It sloped downward gradually, going deeper into the mountain as he followed it. He halted as he heard a noise ahead.

The creature that lumbered toward Kirk made him back up instinctively. It was at least seven feet tall, only vaguely humanoid in shape, and its rough skin glistened wetly. It stopped when it saw Kirk and began to make a low keening sound.

“I’m a captive here, too,” Kirk began slowly, wondering if the translator implant was working when there was no response. “Can you understand me?”

The creature moved toward. him suddenly. Kirk began backing away, feeling some kind of threatening purpose in its actions. He knew he couldn’t continue going back the way he’d just come, for that was a dead end, and he didn’t want to get trapped there. If he could just get around the alien, he thought he could outrun it, for it seemed slow and slightly clumsy, as if it were accustomed to a lighter gravity.

As the creature continued stalking him, Kirk made a break for it, trying to get past, but a huge arm swung up, quicker than he’d expected, and slammed him to the ground. He searched frantically for a rock to defend himself, and failing that, settled for his fist. Kirk realized his mistake as soon as his hand contacted the damp flesh. It burned like acid. He cried out in startled pain and tried to jerk away, but the creature bore down upon him, the blunt claws tearing at his shirt. The weight of it on his chest made it difficult to breathe; he felt as if he were being crushed. Within a few seconds, he blacked out.

* * * *

Kirk opened his eyes, surprised to find himself still alive and in one piece. His shirt was gone and he glanced down at his hands and arms, expecting to find them blistered and burned. They were only slightly red, although tingling as if the nerve endings had been singed. He could see the rough arch of the cave above him, and he was lying on a makeshift bed of cushions and blankets.

He tried to sit up, but his head swam sickeningly, and he dropped back down with a moan, closing his eyes tightly. In an instant he felt cool, wet cloth being placed against his forehead soothingly. His eyes flew open to see Spock leaning over him.

“Spock! You’re alive—” He jerked upright and grabbed the Vulcan’s arm. Spock pushed him back down firmly.

“Lie still, Jim.”

“I’m okay,” Kirk insisted. “I was just a little dizzy for a second. I was supposed to take it easy for a while after that head injury. I don’t think what just happened constitutes taking it easy.” He made another attempt to rise, and this time Spock assisted him. “God, I’m glad to see you!” He looked the Vulcan over fondly, noting with relief that he seemed healthy and unharmed. “After seeing the condition of the shuttlecraft, I was plenty worried. Where’s Brice?”

“Brice died shortly after the crash,” Spock answered flatly, but Kirk could read the guilt in his eyes.

Kirk was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry. He was a good man . . .” He trailed off as Spock stood and moved away restlessly. He had a pronounced limp. “You were hurt, too. What happened? Is it bad?”

Spock dipped some water out of a spring that bubbled up at one end of the cavern, then returned to sit beside the Human. “It is not serious.” He offered the water to Kirk, who drank thirstily.

After a long moment, Kirk spoke again, knowing from personal experience what was bothering Spock. “It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t ignore a distress call. I would’ve taken the same action, you know that. Don’t blame yourself for what happened to Brice.”

Spock nodded but didn’t answer. Then he looked up at Kirk, almost accusingly. “You shouldn’t have come here, Jim.”

“You couldn’t expect me to go on without finding out if you were alive or dead,” Kirk replied impatiently. “Besides, I didn’t risk the ship any more than you did. I sent her on with Scotty in command. They’ll be back in this area in about twenty-seven days. Of course, if they don’t pick up my beacon . . .” He looked around and sighed. “Doesn’t look too promising right now, does it? How far do these tunnels and caves go back into the mountain?”

“The entire mountain is honeycombed with tunnels, but I think we can be certain that none of them lead to the surface, or it would be illogical for the natives to place us here.”

“Did you pick up any sign of the ship that sent out the distress call?”

“No. It may have struck an asteroid. Our sensors became almost totally ineffective soon after we entered the system.”

Kirk nodded. “I had trouble with mine, too, but not as bad. I think the magnetic storms run in cycles, and I must have been lucky enough to come in when they weren’t as severe.”

“Your shuttlecraft is still operable?” Spock asked quickly.

“It was when I left it, but I wouldn’t count on it being that way for long. The natives were chopping the Copernicus into little pieces and carting it off. When they find mine, they’ll probably do the same. They’re not exactly welcoming to strangers, are they?”

“Extremely xenophobic,” Spock agreed absently. “They have developed a rather logical means of dealing with the situation.”

“I can’t say I’m too happy with their logic,” Kirk said drily. “But I suppose it might get irritating to have aliens of all shapes and sizes crashing down out of the sky periodically. Anyway, we’ll have to start working on some way of getting out of here.”

Spock avoided Kirk’s eyes. “I’m afraid you can’t do anything, Jim.”

“Why not? What do you mean?”

“The natives are mildly telepathic. It is difficult to know to what extent, but I have sensed minds trying to touch mine. I believe they may monitor the prisoners’ thoughts to check for escape plans and stop them before they can be used. As a Vulcan, I am able to block anything I do not wish them to know—but you are Human.”

“I see,” Kirk said slowly, wondering if Spock had a plan already, and realizing that he couldn’t even afford to think about it if it were to be successful. He changed the subject quickly to get it out of his mind. “You said prisoners? There are others?”

Grateful that Kirk had picked up so easily on the necessity of avoiding the subject of escape, Spock answered, “Yes, there are three others here now. A Vulcan trader named Solack, a Human called Jason, and the creature that attacked you.”

Kirk looked up, startled. “You mean it was shipwrecked here, too? It didn’t even seem intelligent.”

“Its intelligence is very limited. Solack attempted to mind-link with it some time ago to discover if it was capable of assisting him in . . . something he wished to do, but found it difficult to communicate with other than on very basic levels. The creature is a Reeca.”

“Isn’t that the race from the Tal System? I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never seen one.”

“They are extremely reclusive,” Spock explained. “All their trading is accomplished through mediators.”

“But that thing can’t be one of them,” Kirk protested. “The Reecai are intelligent beings. In fact, the Council has been trying to convince them to join the Federation for years.”

“From what Solack discovered, this is, indeed, a member of that race. They consist of three sexes, two of which are intelligent, and the third exists only as a drone. Its sole purpose is to initiate the sexual functions of the other two. It . . . quickens their reproductive cycle. The other two in this one’s triad must have been killed in the crash here. However, its instinct drives it to continue its function.”

Kirk’s eyes widened. “You’re saying it was . . . trying to rape me?”

Spock shook his head. “Not precisely. The sexual organs are too dissimilar to make that possible. But it is in the creature’s nature to attempt the action. Its size and strength, combined with the acid-like secretions from its skin, would be fatal to you if you are attacked again. This time I was fortunately in the vicinity when I heard you cry out.”

Kirk took a deep breath. “Yeah . . . and thanks. But what about you? Hasn’t it . . . uh, attacked you or the others?”

“My skin chemistry is slightly different from yours. The Reeca’s secretions are not as harmful to Vulcans, and my strength is greater than yours. I have been able to fight it off. It ordinarily keeps its distance from me now.”

“But what about the Human . . . Jason, wasn’t it? How does he manage to stay away from it?”

Spock appeared uncomfortable. “The Reeca can sense if one has been . . . sexually active, and knows it is not needed. It has not molested Jason.”

“But—” Kirk paused in confusion. “Do you mean recent sexual activity?” Spock nodded.

Kirk thought about that for a moment. Now that he considered it, it had been some time since he had . . . He’d been so busy on the ship, and then after the accident, he had been in the hospital for several weeks. He looked at Spock curiously. “How long have Jason and Solack been here?”

“Solack was captured four point seven years ago. Jason has been here nearly a year.”

Kirk suddenly realized what Spock was saying. “Oh. I see.”

Spock moved around the cave uneasily, stoking up the small fire with bits of ore that resembled coal. He wasn’t certain if Kirk did see, but it was important that he understand the implications. “When Jason arrived here, Solack knew he was on the verge of pon farr. They reached an agreement, logically fitted to both their needs.”

Spock kept his back turned toward Kirk, unwilling to face him just yet. Kirk stared at him, trying to absorb what he was being told. “So this Jason . . . served Solack in the pon farr?”

“And lived to tell the tale!” A voice called out brightly from the cave entrance. They both jumped guiltily as the boy entered. He grinned merrily. “You must be Kirk. Has Spock been telling you all our deep, dark secrets? That’s the trouble with these small towns, nothing to do but gossip. Speaking of gossip, I hear through the grapevine that you’re the captain of one of those heavy-class starships. Any chance of it popping by and taking us away from it all?”

Kirk couldn’t resist the infectious smile. He smiled back. “Sorry, I wouldn’t count on it. Last time I looked, it was heading in the opposite direction.”

Jason shrugged pragmatically. “Pity. I had hopes of getting off this rock before I lost my boyish charm.”

A Vulcan appeared at the entrance. He was slightly shorter than Spock, and older.

He ignored Kirk totally and addressed Spock. “I must speak with you.”

An expression of annoyance flashed over Spock’s face, showing his obvious reluctance to leave Kirk’s side. But he glanced at Jason and Kirk, then nodded. “Very well. I will return shortly, Jim.”

After they had left, Kirk turned to the other Human. “Do you know what he wanted?”

“It’s better not to ask,” Jason replied smoothly. “I guess Spock told you that the bulbheads—our so very hospitable friends up above—might be mind-readers?”

“He mentioned they might be.”

“Solack says they’re real amateurs, but us primitive Human types have to keep our noses clean just to be on the safe side. There’s no way of knowing just how much they can dig out of our minds, since we don’t have the kind of defenses Vulcans have. I’ve learned to mind my own business anyway, and not ask questions.” He flashed another smile. “They could be doing the Count of Monte Cristo bit, for all I know . . . or they could be just playing strip poker.”

Kirk chuckled. “Chess maybe. Never strip poker.”

“Whatever.”

“Well, if they’re playing chess, I’ll put my money on Spock.” Again, Kirk was changing the subject to keep his mind from dwelling on what the Vulcans could be planning.

“It wouldn’t be much of a contest. For a Vulcan, Solack isn’t all that bright.”

Recalling what Spock had told him of the ‘arrangement’ between Jason and Solack, Kirk was a little surprised at the comment. Obviously, Jason’s respect for the Vulcan, whatever relationship was forced upon them, was limited. Kirk observed him with interest, feeling a twinge of compassion for the boy—for he was hardly more than that. The situation had to be difficult, especially when he considered the pon-farr. Kirk’s one glimpse of that had been very enlightening. When Vulcan passions were released, they tended to be very intense, sometimes violent.

However, Jason did seem cheerful, although Kirk sensed a tenseness behind it, as if much of the lightness was forced. For all his youth, there was a cynical expression in the dark blue eyes that spoke of a wisdom and worldliness far beyond his years.

“What ship were you from?” Kirk asked him curiously.

“A merchant ship, the MaBelle. Our navigation and sensors went haywire and we hit an asteroid. Had to abandon ship and take the loading craft. This seemed to be the only livable piece of real estate in the area, so we headed here. The crate wasn’t built to take the turbulence, though. We cracked up pretty bad.”

“What were you doing in this system?”

“Marsh . . . that was the owner of the merchant line . . . had lost a ship in this area a couple of months before, and wanted to check it out. I told him it was too big a risk, but . . . he was always like that. I think he just liked to take chances sometimes.”

“He’s dead?” Kirk asked gently.

There was a distant expression in Jason’s eyes. “His neck was broken in the crash.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jason came out of his reverie abruptly. “Yeah . . .well, everyone has to go sometime.” He changed the subject quickly. “Want some coffee?”

“If you have some, sure.”

“We’ve got lots of it. The bulbheads toss down just about everything they find in the ships that crash here—everything that can’t be turned into weapons, that is. ‘Course they’ve never tried my coffee, either.” He grinned. “Anyway, they don’t have any use for the stuff, but I guess they figure we might, so they pitch it down here. A real galactic garbage dump. We’ve got two crates of Denebian bubble bath, if you’re interested.”

“I’ll try the coffee first.” He waited until Jason had poured him some from a kettle over the coals, and handed him the cracked mug before he asked, “Where are you from?”

“Venusport,” Jason answered and waited for the reaction. Kirk looked up from his cup, startled. “You were born there?”

“As far as I know. Mum never went into the history of my conception too heavily . . . or who happened to be the lucky papa.”

Kirk sipped the coffee and tried not to show his surprise. Venusport had never totally recovered from the isolation it had suffered after the Eugenics Wars. Although it was still a busy trading port, it had a very unsavory reputation, and the few times Kirk had been there, he had seen it was well deserved. It was little more than a rats’ warren of drifters, prostitutes of several sexes, swindlers, thieves, and individuals who would cut your throat for a credit. Most ships made only pit stops there, to refuel, do some quick trading, or to have a little decadent R and R.

Jason looked amused, as if he could read what was on Kirk’s mind. “Yeah, home sweet home. I made my living picking pockets and turning tricks until I got a cushy place with Marsh.”

Kirk knew he was still being watched for some negative response, almost as if Jason was trying to shock him. Kirk felt relieved when Spock returned, and Jason set down his cup and moved toward the entrance. The two exchanged a brief glance that Kirk didn’t quite understand.

“If you get bored,” Jason offered Kirk, “stop by. It’s the third hole to your right. I have a tennis court, a sauna, and a pool table. Or maybe we could play cards.” With another of his quick smiles, he left.

“How are you feeling, Jim?” Spock asked, concerned by his solemn expression.

“I’m fine,” Kirk answered absently. “You know, he can’t even be as old as Chekov. Poor kid. I think he’s had a rough life.”

Spock didn’t answer. He squatted down and began feeding coals to the dying fire. He had had a difficult conversation with Solack, for the older Vulcan had wanted to know when he could get back to work on the escape tunnel. Solack had been in the process of digging it for over four years, using his bare hands and what few tools he could manufacture from the objects the natives tossed down. In the last three weeks, since Spock was assisting, they had made excellent progress, and both felt they were fairly near the surface now. Solack’s vessel hadn’t crashed, but had only been forced down by the interference, and there was a good chance that the natives hadn’t located it where he had hidden it in the mountains. If so, and they could get the ship operating again, their odds of making it off this planet were good.

Jim’s arrival both created a problem and gave them a deadline. It was excellent news that the Enterprise would be there to receive the distress beacon once they made it off the planet—but twenty-seven days was a very short span of time to complete the work. It would take two men to move some of the large rocks they had recently encountered, but Spock was unwilling to leave Jim unprotected, knowing the creature would find him again. Solack had bluntly told Spock his only option if he wished to save the Human. Spock had known what it was, but resented Solack’s intrusion in the matter. They had argued heatedly, with Solack insisting that it was most definitely his concern, if the problem kept Spock from the work and jeopardized the freedom of them all.

Spock knew the older Vulcan was right. It was his primary duty to get Kirk out of here alive, whatever measures were required to do so. However, broaching the subject would be uncomfortable.

“Jim,” he said finally, studying the fire, “I will not be able to stay with you all of the time.”

Kirk looked up, biting his tongue to keep from asking why. If Spock was forced to give him any answers, it could endanger their chances for escape. “I understand.”

“No, I do not think you do. If I am not with you and the Reeca finds you, you will be without protection.”

“I can take care of myself, Spock,” Kirk said hastily. “Do whatever you have to. Don’t worry about me.”

Spock stood and turned to face the Human, almost angrily. “Jim, if you are attacked again, you may be killed. I cannot stay to prevent it.”

Kirk watched him uncertainly. “And it’s not possible for me to go with you?”

“No.”

Kirk took a deep breath. “Well, that’s that. I’ll just have to manage the best I can.”

“There is another way for you to be safe from the creature,” Spock said slowly.

“How?” Kirk asked, puzzled for a second, then he realized, and a cold feeling hit the pit of his stomach. “Now, wait a minute—”

“Sexual activity will keep you safe from the Reeca,” Spock plunged on, avoiding the Human’s eyes. “It is the only logical answer, and . . . it must be accomplished tonight, for I must be . . . away tomorrow.”

Kirk stared at Spock unbelieving. “Are you suggesting—?”

Spock held his breath, waiting for Kirk to suggest it first. It had been in the back of his mind since he first found Kirk, but he could not bring himself to offer that option. He was confused by his own illogical feelings on the matter, and afraid of the consequences.

“You can’t be serious, Spock,” Kirk tumbled on, “I can’t—”

“I have discussed this with Jason,” Spock broke in smoothly, his heart falling. “He has agreed.”

“Jason?” Kirk repeated numbly. Events were moving a little too fast for him to take in.

“Yes.” Spock finally met Kirk’s gaze reluctantly. “There is no other solution, Jim. I am sorry.”

Kirk considered it. “Am I correct in thinking that, uh, self-stimulation would not be sufficient? No, I . . . suppose . . . not, or Jason would have tried—.” Kirk was still stunned by the idea, although he knew he shouldn’t be. He’d been told of the arrangement between Jason and Solack. It was a logical solution to the problem. But it still seemed so unthinkable, so ludicrous.

“I will take you to him,” Spock said quickly, squelching his own sense of loss.

“Now?” Kirk looked blank, his mind still whirling.

“Yes, now.” He hesitated. “Jim, if this was not necessary for your safety, I would not ask you to—”

“I understand. You don’t want to have to worry about me while you’re . . . occupied.”

Kirk held fast to his dignity as he stood. He couldn’t let Spock see that the whole idea scared him to death. “Okay, let’s go.”

Spock led him to the entrance of another cave off the main tunnel, and stopped. Kirk looked at him questioningly, trying to postpone this. “What about Solack? If he and Jason are—”

“He is . . . working elsewhere. They are not bonded, so the . . . situation will not concern him.”

Kirk squared his shoulders and entered. Jason was pulling off his shirt. He tossed it over a large stone, then noticed Kirk. “Hello. I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show up.”

Kirk glanced back at the doorway, but Spock had silently disappeared. Nervously, he stepped in further, thinking he had never felt so uncomfortable in his life. Jason studied him judiciously, sensing his unease.

“Have a seat,” he offered, pointing to a ledge at the side of the cave that was covered with a jumble of blankets and pillows. “Believe it or not, I have a couple of bottles of Argelian wine that survived some pretty rough handling. It’s good stuff, want some?”

Kirk took a steadying breath and nodded. He sat down on the ledge gingerly, torn between the urge to panic and the desire to laugh. He’d been in some strange situations before, but this one had to out-rank them all.

Jason returned with the wine bottle and sat down beside Kirk. He poured the liquid into a dented metal cup and handed it to him. “No fancy glasses, sorry.”

“This is fine.” Kirk took a quick swig, wishing it was something a lot stronger. With Jason sitting so close—and obviously intending on getting much closer—all the humor in the situation was rapidly dimming, his panic increasing. He could feel Jason’s eyes on him but couldn’t bring himself to turn and meet them.

“You’ve never fucked a man before, have you?” Jason asked matter-of-factly.

This caused Kirk’s back to straighten. “No, of course not.”

Jason chuckled. “You don’t need to act so holier-than-thou. It’s not all that unusual, you know. As good looking as you are, I just figured someone must have hit on you somewhere along the line.”

Kirk remained silent, remembering passes he’d received as a teenager, and later at the Academy—some subtle, some outright. And a few close calls that he’d rather forget, when it almost wasn’t a matter of choice. Those instances had given him a distinct aversion to personal homosexuality that he’d never been able to dispel. He was tolerant when he ran across it in acquaintances, or on the ship, as long as they left him alone, but he’d always retained a subconscious feeling of superiority.

Now he faced Jason curiously, feeling he had to ask. “How do you, uh, cope with it? I mean, how can you—”

Jason smiled. “Listen, it’s not so bad. It can be very good, in fact, if you let it . . . and if you’re with the right person.” He was quiet for a second, lost in thought. Then he continued lightly, “But I’m the wrong person to ask. I’ve always preferred men.”

Kirk looked puzzled. “But what about women? Don’t you feel any desire for them?”

Jason shrugged. “Dear old Mum pretty much burned me out on women. She wasn’t exactly the kind of mother who baked oatmeal cookies. Oh, she did tuck me in at night sometimes, but it was usually with some old spacer who had free credits and a yen for eight-year-old boys.”

Kirk had no idea how to reply to that. He had realized when Jason talked to him earlier that his life had been far from easy, but it seemed that was only the tip of the iceberg. Kirk looked down at the sandy floor, wishing he hadn’t brought up the subject at all.

Jason continued, almost as if he was trying to shock Kirk even more. “That’s about when I decided I was old enough to fend for myself. If I was going to have to do it, I didn’t think I needed her as a pimp. She never came looking for me, so I don’t suppose she was too sorry to see me go—although I bet she missed the revenue.”

“You were doing . . . that when you were eight?” Kirk tried to keep the pity from his voice but wasn’t entirely successful.

“Mostly I just picked pockets and did a little begging until I got older. It was a whole lot safer. The ones who want little kids are usually real sickos, so I tried to stay clear of them until I was about thirteen. I got by. Once I ran into Marsh and took up with him, it was much better. I must have been about seventeen then.”

Kirk shook his head, feeling a surge of disgust for this Marsh character. It wasn’t hard to see why he took the kid off the streets, so to speak. One didn’t run across a boy this beautiful every day. Jason was striking; dark curling hair, large expressive blue eyes fringed with long black lashes, almost classical features. He was slender, but well built, with dark olive complexion that made his eyes seem even lighter. Kirk noted it all absently, sadly comparing his own relatively easy and safe childhood with Jason’s.

When Jason touched his shoulder lightly, Kirk jerked away as if stung. He had almost forgotten the reason Spock had brought him here. Suddenly it seemed inconceivable to proceed with this. Hadn’t the boy been used enough in his life already?

Relieved to have a concrete reason to back off, Kirk said hastily, “This isn’t going to work. It wasn’t such a good idea to begin with. Let’s forget it, okay?”

Jason’s eyes twinkled in amusement, recognizing Kirk’s reluctance and knowing the real reason for it. “Well, I’m sure Madame Butterfly will be delighted if you leave here pure of mind and body.”

“Who?” Kirk asked in confusion.

“You know, the creature, the alien. It reminds me of a madame of a whorehouse I once visited on Rigel IV. Ugliest woman I ever saw.”

Diverted, Kirk grinned. “I think I’ve been there. You’re right, there is a resemblance.”

Jason returned to the point. “Would you rather wrestle with the creature or me? You’re not going to have much choice.”

Kirk felt trapped again. “Hey, I’m old enough to be your father!”

“How old are you? Thirty-three, thirty-four?”

“Thirty-six.”

Jason grinned. “Then you’d have to have been pretty precocious. Stop trying to be such a hot shot. You’re not that old. In fact, Marsh was about your age . . .” He sobered for an instant, then shook it off. “In any case, you’re too old to act like a nervous virgin. Unless you prefer ‘death before dishonor’, I suggest you relax.”

Jason’s hand slid up Kirk’s bare back caressingly. He leaned over and touched his lips to Kirk’s. Kirk fought the urge to pull away, knowing Jason was right, but when the tongue slipped invitingly into his mouth, Kirk pushed him back and jerked to his feet.

“I can’t. I’m sorry, but . . . I can’t handle it. It just won’t work.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, it’s going to be your problem.” He watched with a degree of sympathy as Kirk paced restlessly. “What are you going to do about it?”

Kirk stopped, shoulders slumped. “I don’t know.”

“What about Spock?” Jason questioned abruptly. “At least you know him. Maybe it would be easier. He already looks at you like you were his own bit of heaven.”

Kirk spun around. “What do you mean?”

“You’re never noticed?”

Kirk looked cautious. “Noticed what? We’re friends. We have been for a long time.”

“Don’t look now, but I think your ‘friend’ has been having other ideas.”

Kirk shook his head in denial, but the thought had been planted in his mind now, and the selfish part of him realized this could be an advantage. With Spock he knew where he stood, who was in command, and Spock also understood him better than anyone else. The Vulcan would be undemanding and safe.

“You don’t have much choice,” Jason said flatly. “Why don’t you ask him?”

Kirk hesitated. “I’ll have to think about it.” Abruptly, he turned to leave.

“I wouldn’t think too long,” Jason called after him. “And if you change your mind . . .”

Kirk walked back down the tunnel, glancing over his shoulder apprehensively. If he ran into the Reeca right now, he would be out of luck. He wasn’t quite sure what he was going to tell Spock, but Jason was very correct in pointing out that he didn’t have much time to think it over. And perhaps that was best; this wasn’t the kind of decision that would be easier the more he thought about it.

Spock was stirring something in a pan over the coals when Kirk entered. He looked up, then glanced away hastily.

“What’s that?” Kirk asked, trying to break the uneasy silence.

“A vegetable stew. The natives provide a variety of edible . . .” He trailed off when he noticed that Kirk wasn’t really listening. Spock swallowed the hard lump in his throat and asked worriedly, “Are you . . . all right, Jim?”

The Human met the Vulcan’s concerned gaze. There was no way to avoid being honest. “I couldn’t go through with it, Spock.”

Spock straightened. A fleeting expression of relief washed through the dark eyes, followed quickly by one of irritation. “Jim, you know you must—”

“It doesn’t have to be _him_!” Kirk cut in quickly before he could lose his nerve. At Spock’s sharp intake of breath, Kirk turned away, feeling his face flush furiously.

There was a long silence before Spock spoke again. When he did, his voice was barely a whisper. “Are you implying that . . .I . . .? That we should . . .?”

Kirk stiff refused to turn, unable to watch the reaction. “You were talking about logic. I’m trying to be practical about this. Jason has Solack, and . . . it isn’t like you and I haven’t had to do some pretty strange things to protect each other before. This may be carrying it to extremes, but . . .”

“You want me?” Spock’s tone was quietly incredulous.

Kirk did swing around at that, impatiently. “It isn’t a question of what I want, is it? The end line is, if this has to be done, I’d rather it be with you. I care about you, and I know you care about me. That’s supposed to make it easier, isn’t it?”

Spock’s head was lowered thoughtfully, and when he didn’t respond, Kirk realized how this must have sounded. He sighed, sitting down on a large stone. “Listen, Spock, I don’t mean to back you into a corner. It’s not fair of me to put you on the spot like this. I can understand if you’d rather not—”

“Jim!” Spock broke in earnestly, “I want you. I . . . have for a very long time.”

Kirk was startled, not so much by Spock’s admission, but by how openly he confessed it. He hadn’t expected it to be this easy to convince the Vulcan, and his resolve wavered in the face of Spock’s declaration. Was it right to play on Spock’s emotions merely because he was reluctant to yield himself to a stranger? “If that’s true,” Kirk demanded, “why did you take me to Jason? Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I could not use this situation to satisfy my own desires,” Spock answered shamefully. “I believed you would prefer another Human. I found it impossible to ask you—” He fell silent, eyes cast down.

“And now, I’m asking _you_ ,” Kirk replied wryly. “Looks like it all works out for the best. Ironic as it seems.”

“Are you sure, Jim?”

Kirk tossed a pebble against the wall in frustration. “Hell, no, I’m not sure. I’m not sure of anything. But I don’t seem to have a whole lot of choice in the matter.”

Spock turned stonily back to the fire, his face unreadable. “Are you hungry?” he asked tonelessly.

Kirk had never had less of an appetite in his life, but he jumped at the chance of a brief respite. “As a matter of fact, I am . . . a little.”

While he tried to pretend to eat the stew, Kirk’s gaze kept roving to the makeshift bed, not wanting to think about what would be taking place there soon, but having a horrible fascination for it just the same. The cold sensation in his stomach had frozen to a solid block of ice, and he felt stiff and clumsy when he finally set the bowl down, still almost full. The tension was so thick in the atmosphere between them that neither found it possible to look at the other.

Kirk finally took a very deep, fortifying breath, and stood. “Okay, I suppose it doesn’t make sense to put this off. But . . . I must admit, I—” He cleared his throat and laughed shortly. “I’m a little nervous.”

The Vulcan was regarding him with a strange expression, but stood without comment and moved to the bed. He began removing his tattered uniform. The panicky feeling had returned, real and strong, but Kirk forced it back, and went to sit on the bed beside Spock.

Spock held his gaze, then put his hands on each side of Kirk’s face, tilting it up. He paused for a second, as if trying to decide what Kirk could best accept for a beginning, then he bent his mouth gently to the Human’s. Kirk felt as if his blood had turned to ice, but wouldn’t let himself jerk away this time. It was for real, and there was no turning back, not if he wished to remain alive very long. Whatever he felt, he wasn’t suicidal, so he made up his mind to bear with anything.

Spock pulled back, eyes searching Kirk’s face almost desperately, seeking some glimmer of response. He didn’t find it, and some inner part of the Vulcan’s soul shrank back at the idea of doing this when Kirk was obviously so cold and even fearful. However, his choices were also limited.

Spock pushed Jim back gently onto the blankets, running tender, almost pleading hands down Kirk’s chest. He kissed him again, trying to conjure a touch of passion from the tightly pressed lips and the unbending body. Finally, he lifted his head, the brown eyes revealing his sense of inadequacy. “Jim, it may be more . . . difficult for you, if you remain so unyielding.”

Knowing Spock was right, Kirk tried to relax, tried to flow with it, but it simply wouldn’t work. He made all the proper motions, put his arms around the Vulcan’s back, returned the kisses more readily, but when Spock removed his pants and began caressing him there, Kirk froze again. Spock was too aroused to stop this time, but there was a grim pain in his eyes as he proceeded with what had to be done. Kirk had known this wouldn’t be pleasant, but when the Vulcan entered him, as gentle and careful as he was, it hurt. Kirk gritted his teeth and bore it, his face flushed with shame.

It was over quickly, and Spock rolled away and onto his side, facing away from the Human. Kirk experienced a sharp wave of regret for what he was putting the Vulcan through. Spock had admitted he cared, that he had wanted this. How horrible it must be for him to be living his fantasy under such circumstances, with such an unwilling partner. Kirk felt he must have been very blind not to have seen that Spock loved him—perhaps willfully blind. Maybe he had known all along and simply didn’t want to have to deal with it. Now, Kirk felt guilty at forcing Spock into this situation. It was the ultimate rejection.

Impulsively, Kirk reached out to touch Spock’s shoulder. “Spock?”

Spock remained unmoving, staring at the rock wall. “I . . . regret that it was painful for you, Jim. I am sorry.”

Kirk squeezed his shoulder. “It wasn’t so bad, and it wasn’t your fault, Spock.” The shoulder was trembling slightly. “Hey, I know you did this for me. I just wish . . .”

Spock’s voice was gruff, “You found it abhorrent.”

“I—” The Human felt at a loss. Spock’s disappointment and despondency was like a tangible force. For the sake of his friend, Kirk dismissed all his qualms and reached out for him. Spock had been rejected too many times in his life. He couldn’t bring himself to let him suffer through that again.

“Spock, Spock . . .” Laying his cheek against the Vulcan’s tense back, he put his arms around him lovingly. “Maybe we could . . . try again?”

Spock stirred at the embrace, but didn’t turn. “We do not have a choice under the circumstances.”

“No, not because we have to. I mean . . . could we try again, now?”

Abruptly, Spock shifted over to stare at Kirk accusingly, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Pity, Jim? I never thought you would insult me with that.”

“No! It’s just— Damn it, Spock, you can’t expect me to . . . to accept all this so easily. I’m trying. Just give me a chance, that’s all.”

Spock’s eyes softened, and he touched the Human’s cheek tenderly. “I know, Jim. But it really isn’t necessary for you—”

Kirk leaned over and kissed him, finding it much easier than he expected “I don’t want to hurt you, either. You mean more to me than anyone.”

Spock was startled by the action, but he wanted to believe this so much, he didn’t try to argue. The emotions that raced through him were too strong, too fierce, and he should have been warned by it. Things were moving too fast, and Jim needed more time, but it seemed all his Vulcan discipline and patience had vanished.

Spock took the Human in his arms, and Kirk was determined to do his best to respond this time. After a few seconds, he actually began to enjoy the kisses; Spock had a very sensuous mouth, and caught on skillfully. He seemed a little startled when Kirk’s tongue slipped into his mouth—either he had never been kissed that way, or hadn’t expected it from Kirk—but Spock adapted to it eagerly.

Kirk was convincing himself to ignore the circumstances and relax, simply relishing the purely physical pleasure of the warm caresses, like a cat. He had a low-key sexual response, but it was rather hazy, his concentration going more into proving his very real affection for Spock. If this was what the Vulcan needed, Kirk felt he owed him this and more.

However, when Spock’s touch once again became more intimate, Kirk found himself drawing back mentally. Although he was determined not to hurt Spock again by pulling away, the deep prejudice against this was hard to disrupt. As the Vulcan bent to take him in his mouth, Kirk shut his eyes tightly, trying to imagine this was a woman’s mouth sucking him, a woman’s passion devouring him.

But, suddenly, that didn’t seem right either. Kirk opened his eyes again, to look down at the dark head that was trying so hard to please him. _It’s not fair to Spock_ , he thought, abruptly ashamed of his attempt to mentally evade him. _Why is this so difficult for me? Just what is so terrible about it? He loves me. My god, he truly loves me!_ Somehow the truth of that at last sank in, with all that it meant. _And what about me? What do I feel? He does mean more to me than any other person living. Without him . ._ . He didn’t want to think about that. Kirk knew it was more than mere friendship that had driven him to search for Spock—it had been the very selfish fear that he might have to go on without him.

He remembered Zefram Cochrane and his Companion, and what Commissioner Hedford said: _I’ve been good at my job, but I’ve never been loved. What kind of life is that; not to be loved? Never to have shown love? And he runs away from love._

Kirk reached down and tentatively stroked the silky hair, feeling his organ harden as he began to accept the feelings. _I love him, too. More than anyone or anything. And, if I’ve never envisioned loving a man in this way . . . well, that doesn’t mean I can’t. He loves me totally, how can I turn away from that? Why should I even want to?_

While Kirk’s mind was still whirling with questions, his body took over. The responses were no longer feigned, the excitement grew, and Kirk moaned in the delight of it. He swiftly reached the peak, and Spock took the result gladly, content with Kirk’s fulfillment.

Feeling an odd mixture of amazement and awe that this had happened, the Human pulled Spock back up so he could hold him, kiss him, still shaky and bewildered by the burst of passion.

“Jim,” Spock said uncertainly, “was it . . . pleasurable?”

“Yes, yes, it was,” Kirk answered, a trace of surprise lingering in his tone. “Once I realized how much I really do love you, it seemed . . . natural.”

“You love me?” The question was hardly more than a breath.

Kirk looked at him steadily. “Yes, I think—I _know_ I do. More than I’d ever realized before.”

“But you do not feel what we did is natural?”

Kirk dropped his eyes. “l . . .guess I didn’t before. I’ve heard all the theories and facts about bisexuality, but . . . Well, it just didn’t seem right—for me, at least.” He lifted his gaze to meet Spock’s again. “Now, I . . .don’t know. It’s necessary for this place and time. And I do love you. That’s about as far as I can take it right now.”

Spock pulled the sandy head down against his shoulder, brushing a kiss on the forehead. “That is enough for now,” he said softly. “Rest, Jim. Sleep.”

Kirk closed his eyes gratefully, the overwhelming fear, tension, and uncertainty of the day wearing down on him wearily. He slept.

* * * *

When he awoke, Spock was gone. He knew better than to speculate. It was difficult to restrain oneself from thinking about a forbidden subject, but it was possible. Kirk’s training in espionage and counter-intelligence had taught him methods of channeling his mind in other areas—not always effective, but helpful in this situation.

First, he sought out some breakfast, locating some ration bars and making coffee. Afterward, he washed up at the spring. The water was icy cold, and his teeth were chattering by the time he finished. He pulled his pants back on and rummaged around until he found another shirt. It was too large, but it was warm enough, and his uniform shirt had been effectively ripped to shreds by the creature.

For a time, Kirk just wandered around the cave, trying to find something to catch his attention to keep his mind from Spock. He still wasn’t sure he understood what happened the previous night, or was even certain that he wanted to. It was almost easier to think of it as nothing more than a very strange dream. Easier than facing the truth.

Finally, Kirk decided to find Jason. He’d have to talk to him sooner or later, and obviously, with Spock and Solack gone a great deal of the time, they would be spending much of their time together. Kirk had never liked being alone for long periods of time, and he wondered how Jason had held up under the isolation.

Kirk had only taken a few steps into the tunnel when he came face to face with the Reeca. He stopped dead still, poised to run if the creature moved toward him. It studied him, almost reflectively, for a moment, emitting that lonely keening wail, then turned and shuffled off. Kirk released the breath he’d been holding, feeling strangely unrelieved. It underlined, all too dramatically, what had occurred last night. The Reeca knew it wasn’t needed, and Kirk felt oddly unsettled by that fact.

He continued on thoughtfully, until he arrived at Jason’s cave. The boy was sitting cross-legged on a large, flat rock, playing solitaire with a grimy deck of cards. He smiled sunnily at Kirk. “I was beginning to worry about you. I noticed Madame Butterfly plod by a while ago, but since she didn’t eat you up, I take it you made your decision.”

Kirk felt himself blushing and was angry at himself for it. He changed the subject quickly. “I see you really do have cards. So where’s the pool table?”

“I only bring it out for company, not relatives.”

Kirk snapped his fingers. “You’ve discovered you really are my son, right? It must have been the family birthmark that gave it away.”

Jason’s eyes twinkled. “Nope. You’re the only other Human on this planet, therefore, you are my closest relative. Logical?”

Kirk grinned. “Spock would be impressed. He’s half-human, so that’s makes him our half-brother. Okay, no pool . . . or sauna . . .or tennis court. I guess I can settle for cards. Poker?

“Do you cheat?” Jason asked suspiciously.

“Never,” Kirk swore solemnly.

“Good. I do. I’ll let you deal first, though. I’m a sport.”

Kirk settled down comfortably on the rock and picked up the cards. A few moments later, they were playing in earnest. A few hands later, Jason looked at him ruefully as Kirk spread out another winning hand—a full house this time.

“I thought you said you never cheat?” Jason accused.

Kirk put on his best innocent expression. “Cheat? It’s called creative shuffling.”

Jason laughed. “I think I’ve met my match. We’re going to get along fine, Kirk.”

“Jim,” Kirk supplied.

“Okay, Jim, my turn to deal.”

* * * *

They did get along well. Jason was comfortable and entertaining company; eternally cheerful, often sarcastic, very bright, and always amusing. Kirk found it hard to pin him down to talking of anything serious for long, but when he did, Kirk discovered the boy had a very quick mind and a talent for mathematics and navigation. He found this out when he steered Jason into a discussion of various ships and their relative merit and design. But when Kirk mentioned merchant ships and asked about Marsh’s vessel, Jason dropped the subject immediately, shifting to something totally frivolous, ridiculous enough to make Kirk laugh and forget about the original conversation.

Jason seemed to have the irrepressible good spirits of youth, and yet, Kirk occasionally thought he caught a flicker of bitterness. Certainly the boy’s life had been harsh enough to warrant a large degree of disillusionment, but whatever sadness or despair he felt, he kept strictly to himself.

Kirk’s new relationship with Spock also progressed well, although the way things were, he saw more of Jason than he did of the Vulcan. Spock only returned for a few hours each day to eat a little, to catch a brief nap . . . and to make love to Kirk.

As with most things, Kirk found it easier each time. He knew he loved Spock now, and this seemed the best way to demonstrate it. He slowly learned to enjoy the sensations—all of them—and he no longer felt the irresistible urge to run from the idea. He discovered there was something very seductive in being held by arms stronger than his own. It both frightened and disturbed him that he was beginning to like it so much. But he was careful not to analyze his feelings too closely. He wasn’t ready for the answers.

* * * *

Spock returned from his mysterious activity covered in a chalky white powder. He looked weary to the bone as dropped down on the bed. Kirk brought him some food, which the Vulcan wolfed down hungrily. Kirk tried to pull off his boots, worried at the exhausted lines in the long face, but Spock stopped him.

“No, I must return. Solack will be expecting me—”

“Forget that!” Kirk said angrily. “You’re so tired, you’re ready to fall over. To hell with your Vulcan stamina, you’ve been working twenty hours a day for weeks. You’ve got to get some rest.”

Spock’s shoulders slumped and he shut his eyes. “Perhaps you are correct.” He rubbed his ankle absently.

“Of course I am. And your leg is bothering you, too, isn’t it?” Spock was too weary to deny it. He nodded. “It aches.”

“I think I know something that might help. Come on.” Kirk pulled the Vulcan to his feet. Spock followed him. In a few minutes the tunnel branched off, and Kirk led him to the left for some distance. They came to a large cavern, dripping with stalactites, glittering silver and white. There was a pool at one side, steaming slightly.

“A hot spring,” Kirk said triumphantly. “Soak in that for a while, and it should help your leg and your sore muscles. It’s hotter than I could stand it, but it’s probably just the right temperature for you.”

Spock regarded it doubtfully but stripped off his clothes obligingly. The water seemed almost too hot when he first stepped in, but his body quickly adjusted, and he was soon relaxing gratefully in the warmth. He dozed off and on for twenty minutes until Kirk called a halt.

“You’re going to be well done, if you stay in there much longer.” Kirk threw a ragged blanket around Spock as he got out, and they went back to their cave. Spock settled down on the bed with a contented sigh.

“Your suggestion had merit, Jim. I feel much improved.”

“Good. Now, get some sleep—”

Spock caught his arm as Kirk started to leave and tugged him down beside him. “Not yet,” he murmured, kissing the Human hungrily. Kirk began to push away, but then relented helplessly. He was rapidly becoming addicted to those warm and increasingly more skillful kisses. Spock pulled Kirk’s clothing off impatiently.

The Vulcan made love to him forcefully, and strangely enough, Kirk accepted it. It was difficult to remember that one of his original reasons for deciding on Spock instead of Jason, was that he would be in command of the situation, and that Spock would be undemanding. Somehow that had all changed dramatically, and Kirk wouldn’t permit himself to stop and wonder why. Or why he permitted it.

Spock held him afterward, stroking the light hair absently. “I shall be pleased when we are able to bond properly,” he commented matter-of-factly.

Kirk jerked his head up in surprise. “What?”

“Obviously it is impossible to accomplish at present,” Spock continued, not noticing the Human’s startled reaction. “We cannot enter any type of meld, or . . . well, it is vital for us to keep our thoughts separate while we are here. I do regret that we must postpone—”

“Wait a minute,” Kirk cut in sharply. “What are you talking about? Bonding? That’s not—I . . . I mean, we haven’t talked about anything like that.”

Spock looked at him, puzzled. “What is there to discuss? The bond is natural.”

Kirk felt totally adrift. He hadn’t been prepared for this at all. He hadn’t even considered what would happen when—if—they ever got out of here. It was difficult enough to accept all this under these very bizarre circumstances. But back on the ship? Spock evidently assumed their relationship would continue. Kirk hadn’t been thinking at all.

“But the bond, isn’t that something like . . . a marriage?”

“It is far more than that,” Spock answered firmly.

“Listen, Spock, uh . . . what about Vulcan . . . and your parents? I wouldn’t think they would be able to accept this kind of thing.”

“Because it is a male bonding? That is uncommon, yes, but not unprecedented. When an individual is sterile, it is ordinarily illogical for them to bond with a fertile partner.”

“You mean you are sterile?”

“Yes. Not surprising, considering my hybrid nature.”

“But, if what you say is true, why were you bonded to T’Pring?”

Spock shrugged. “I suppose it could be called a political marriage. Our lines have been matched for generations. A continuation of a plan begun in the time of Surak, to blend the two warring factions of that period. It carries over to this day. As you know, T’Pring was not pleased with the idea—nor was I, actually. But the decision was not ours to make. Tradition is god on Vulcan. However, now that I am free, I have the right to choose. No one on Vulcan will be disturbed or surprised by my choice.”

“Spock,” Kirk began lamely, “ . . .I don’t know about this. I can’t think about it now.” He had avoided commitments all of his life, and now Spock was blithely assuming he was willing to make one that seemed almost ludicrous to Kirk at the moment. All that had happened here between them was . . . different. Unrelated to their real lives.

Belatedly, Spock realized what Kirk was saying. “You do not want—? I do not understand. I thought . . . You said you loved me.”

“I do,” Kirk said hastily. “It’s just . . . I have to think, Spock. I’m not sure I know what any of this means. I need time to adjust to what we have now first. Please understand.”

“Very well,” Spock replied coldly. He seemed on the verge of saying more, but changed his mind and remained silent and distant.

Kirk knew he had hurt Spock again, but he wasn’t sure what he could do to remedy it. This was something he definitely wasn’t prepared for. It disturbed him, and he would have to consider it carefully before he came to any kind of decision. It would mean a major change in the course of his life.

* * * *

A few hours later, Spock left again, leaving Kirk alone with troubling thoughts. This was the first time he had thought of this relationship as a permanent arrangement between himself and Spock. It had begun as something forced, almost ugly to him, but he honestly couldn’t say it meant nothing to him now. Perhaps it was his strong sense of self-preservation that made it acceptable under the current conditions. After all, anything looked good when a painful death was the alternative. But now he knew how he felt about Spock, and it was real and strong. He admitted this with a degree of wonder. And would it really be that hard to make such a commitment? He wouldn’t have to give up his ship. Everything would stay the same—except that he wouldn’t be alone anymore.

Kirk stood and began pacing restlessly. Loneliness—it came with the job, didn’t it? He’d resigned himself to that. But now, he was beginning to see it might not be so necessary. Not with Spock loving him; being able to love Spock in return. But it would change the entire pattern of his life. And what would Bones think—for he was certain to find out. And would it affect his command image? Yet . . . could he give up the delight he had discovered so easily? Could Spock?

This was another factor he hadn’t considered when he’d made his decision—how this could affect their friendship. There was no possible way they could go back to the way things were before. It could never be the same again. And did he really want it to be?

Kirk halted, staring blindly at the wall, trying to sort out his conflicting emotions. It was all hypothetical at present, of course. At least until they managed to get out of here. Kirk was so deep in thought that he didn’t notice when Jason entered. The young man watched him silently for a long moment, concerned by the solemn expression on the older man’s face. He touched Kirk’s shoulder hesitantly.

“Jim, are you all right?”

Kirk jumped, startled. “Jay, I didn’t hear you come in. Sorry.”

“Is anything wrong? Spock didn’t—” he broke off.

“Spock didn’t what?”

Jason shook his head. “Nothing. Just thinking out loud. You looked kind of . . . depressed just then.”

“Not really. I was just trying to figure something out.”

“About you and Spock?”

The question startled Kirk. Jason had been considerate enough to avoid the subject before this, sensing that it bothered Kirk to talk about it. Confused at this direct question, Kirk didn’t answer. He flushed slightly and turned away.

“It’s not as bad as you thought it would be, is it?” Jason continued doggedly. For the first time he was totally serious, all the sarcasm and flippancy gone from his expression and voice.

“I don’t want to discuss it,” Kirk muttered uncomfortably.

“You, Captain James Kirk, are a prude,” Jason said harshly, “. . .and a hypocrite.”

Kirk spun around. “What the hell makes you say that?” he snapped.

“It’s true, isn’t it? You love Spock and you damn well enjoy going to bed with him. But you don’t want to admit that to me . . . or to yourself. You hate that you like it.”

“This is none of your business!” Kirk found he couldn’t meet the knowing blue eyes. He looked away quickly. “What do you know about it anyway?”

Jason laughed humorlessly. “I know what you’re thinking—who’s this snotty pup to tell me what I’m feeling? Well, I may be young, but I’ve had to learn to read people, inside and out. In my line of work, I had to if I wanted to survive long. You love Spock all right. And it’s eating you up inside that you really do want him. You’re a fool for trying to hide from it.”

Feeling attacked, Kirk automatically went on the defensive. “I didn’t think you ran across much ‘love’ in your line of work,” he snarled.

Jason’s head jerked up, and his jaw clenched. “Yeah, you’re right. Not too much. But people sell themselves in a lot of ways. What’s your price, Kirk?”

Kirk faced him furiously, ready to blast out an answer, but stopped. The anger had drained from Jason, his shoulders had slumped, and he suddenly looked very young and vulnerable. The hard, flinty protective barrier had dropped.

“I . . . I wasn’t really giving it to you straight about Marsh,” he said quietly. “I know how I made it sound, but it wasn’t like that at all. Not with Marsh. It was different. Oh, I have no illusions about why he picked me, why he asked me to go with him. He was honest about that, too. He wanted me, and he never denied it.” Jason met Kirk’s gaze wonderingly. “But, you know, he never even touched me for months. Not until he’d taught me enough that I could earn my own way by working on the ship. He didn’t want it to be a business deal between us. He paid me wages just like anyone else who worked for him. Not much at first, because I wasn’t worth much work wise. I couldn’t even write my own name when he found me. God, he was patient. I was such a dumb, smart-alecky kid, defiant as hell at first.” Jason chuckled sadly. “I’d never had to work like that before—never had the chance to. And I certainly wasn’t wild about sitting down and actually learning anything. I thought he was crazy. I knew what he wanted from me, and I couldn’t figure out why he just didn’t take it.”

The blue eyes were distant, almost as if he’d forgotten Kirk was there. He continued softly, “But he waited until I could pull my own weight around the ship—until I was worth the wages he was paying me, and we both knew it. He waited until we were friends, and more than that . . . God, I think I about worshiped him by then—although he would have laughed like hell if I’d said so; he certainly didn’t want that. But I was only sixteen and he seemed to know everything, to have been everywhere. And . . . he was kind to me.”

Jason swallowed and shut his eyes tightly. Kirk could see he was trembling slightly. “No one had ever been kind to me before . . . not like that. Not for just me. When we finally did make love, it was so different from all the other times. I was choosing, I wasn’t being bought or bribed . . . It was my choice to give. He loved me, and . . . god, I loved him.”

Kirk moved to stand close, feeling the waves of despair pouring from the body. He was shaking violently, trying to hold it all in, trying to fight it back. Kirk touched his arm sympathetically. “Jason—”

His eyes opened at the touch, shining with unshed tears. “Now he’s dead,” he said bitterly, “and I’m right back where I started—turning tricks for a Vulcan with a heart of ice . . . . just to stay alive.”

“Don’t,” Kirk protested. “It’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it? Can’t you see the difference between what you and Spock have, and what I’m doing? What I have to do to stay alive. Believe me, I can. I’ve done it before, you see, and I know the difference. The big question is, is it worth it? Without Marsh—” He stopped, taking a deep breath, attempting to control his agitation.

“I’m sorry,” Kirk said, unclear what to do. The boy was hurting so badly, and he didn’t know how to help him.

“Yeah, so am I—”·the cynical tone caught on a sob, and he bit his lip to stop its trembling.

“Hey, it’s all right to cry,” Kirk said gently. “Holding it in will just make it worse.”

Jason shook his head numbly. “Don’t you see? If I let go . . . I’ll fall apart.”

“No, no you won’t. Don’t you think I would cry if I lost Spock? It won’t heal if you don’t let it out.”

Jason raised his head, face torn. “Jim . . . I . . . can’t . . .” The tears spilled over helplessly. Another sob fought its way out of his chest. “Jim, l—”

Kirk pulled the boy to him fiercely, hugging him tightly. “It’s all right. Damn it, it’s all right to let go! Just hold on to me. You don’t have to be afraid to give in to it anymore. You’re not alone now.”

Jason held on to Kirk tightly, crying brokenly. This was the first Human he had related to in nearly a year, and he had no resistance against the sympathy and kindness Kirk radiated. Almost a year of bottled up pain and grief and loneliness poured out of him, tearing his heart to shreds, but building anew on a different foundation. He clutched Kirk as a drowning man would cling to a life raft. A bright ray was breaking through the blackness of the past empty months. A warmth was replacing the hopelessness.

Kirk’s mind was racing as he comforted the boy. He’s right, I am a fool. He’s lost the only love he’s known in his short life, and he can’t understand why I can’t accept love when I’ve found it with Spock. And, damn it, he’s right. With all my faults and stupid prejudices, Spock still loves me. He knows me better than anyone in the universe, and he still loves me! I’m ignorant enough to be afraid of that—to turn away from something so precious . . . just because it doesn’t fit with my straight-edged view of myself. So he’s a man—so what? And when have I ever related so great to women . . . out of bed, that is? Why is what Spock offers so frightening? I _am_ a prude and a hypocrite! I love Spock, and I want him. Why not? Why should I be ashamed of that? Jason certainly isn’t ashamed of what he felt for Marsh.

Kirk pulled back a little to look at Jason. “Feel better?” he asked softly.

The blue eyes met his almost shyly, then he buried his head in Kirk’s shoulder again, clinging to him. “Don’t leave me, please. I couldn’t stand it . . . l can’t . . .”

“I’m right here,” Kirk soothed. “I know it’s hard, but this is better than keeping it all inside. Didn’t Solack help you at all?”

“Are you kidding?” His words were muffled against Kirk’s shoulder. “He didn’t care. He had his . . . own reasons for wanting me alive. Not that different from a hundred others I’ve run across.”

“Maybe you’re being too harsh. If he knew he was going into pon farr soon . . . well, you must know that can be fatal for Vulcans. And, after all, he didn’t have to continue . . . protecting you after it was over.”

Jason shrugged. “Maybe he was saving me for next time. No, he likes it, too. Don’t let them kid you. They may talk about logic, but when it comes to sex, they get off on it as much as us emotional, irrational Humans.” Jason was shaking again. “After Marsh . . . it’s just so hard, so rotten to have to go back to . . . I guess I’m not as tough as I thought I was.”

Kirk felt very paternal, the way he sometimes did with Chekov. The kid needed help, understanding, some sympathy. He held him a little tighter, wishing he knew what to say.

Without warning, Jason was suddenly jerked out of his arms and roughly thrown against the wall of the cave. Stunned, Kirk stared at Spock, totally amazed at his action. The Vulcan had entered without either of them realizing it, and stood there now, towering in rage.

“Spock!” Kirk said, confused and angry. “Why did you do that? What’s wrong? Why did you come back?”

“Obviously you were not expecting my return,” Spock said bitterly. “I wanted to speak to you again about our bonding. I see that is no longer necessary.”

Jason stood up unsteadily, and Kirk moved forward to help him. Spock caught his arm and jerked him back.

“What is wrong with you?” Kirk demanded, baffled by the Vulcan’s attitude. He looked down at his arm where Spock held it in an iron grip. It was cutting into his flesh painfully. “I don’t—”

“It is now apparent,” Spock broke in through clenched teeth, “why you were so reluctant to bond with me. What I cannot understand is why you did not choose him in the beginning when you had the opportunity.”

“Now, wait a minute,” Kirk said quickly. “You have the wrong idea. It’s nothing like that.”

“I am weary of hearing lies,” Spock snarled. “I refuse to listen to more. I can see very well what has occurred, and I will not allow it. You made your decision. You led me to believe—” Fury swept across the Vulcan’s face. He slapped Kirk, hard, with the back of his hand. “You forfeited your chance to choose. You are mine now. How dare you toy with me? Tease me? Humans are notorious for being fickle, but I actually believed you were different. I ignored all your past actions. What a fool I was.”

Kirk had barely recovered from the first blow, when Spock struck him again. He tried to protest, to explain, but Spock refused to listen. He grabbed Kirk’s arm roughly, jerking him up from the ground where he had fallen. Kirk cried out sharply. Spock paused for a second, then took the other arm. Kirk stared blankly at his wrist—it was hanging at an odd angle. As it sank into his mind that it was broken, the agony shot up his arm.

Jason stepped forward timidly. “Spock, don’t hurt him. It really isn’t what you think—”

Spock’s fiery eyes stopped him short. Concern for Jim waged with the natural urge for self-preservation. There was murder in those dark eyes, and Jason knew he was nobody’s hero. He’d lived on the knife’s edge for too long and learned to give in to the stronger. He dropped his eyes submissively, knowing he couldn’t win. Some strange flame—recently born—burned angrily at this, but it wasn’t hot enough or fierce enough to give him the courage to chance his own life.

Spock stared at Jason for a moment, daring him to interfere, then looked back at Kirk possessively. Kirk was still stunned by all of this. He stared back at Spock in complete bewilderment, his mind still groggy from the blows. “Spock, why?”

“Be silent!” Spock hissed, and dragged him out of the cave into the corridor. By the time they reached the other cave, some of Kirk’s wits were returning. He pulled back on the grip on his arm.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. “The boy was just—”

“I know what the ‘boy’ was doing,” Spock said harshly. “And I know what you were doing. I was insane to think you, _you_ could possibly be telling me the truth. I’ve watched you, saw how you manipulated people. Why didn’t I see that you could do that with me just as easily. Easier!” He tossed Kirk roughly down on the bed. “Well, no more. I am wise to it now, and it will not continue. You are mine. I claim you!”

Kirk was speechless for a moment. The pain shooting through his arm was diverting his mind, and he was totally perplexed by this entire situation. Spock was acting crazy, and he couldn’t understand why. Still, he was angry enough to retort hotly, “How dare you treat me like this? I’m nobody’s possession. You hurt Jason, you hurt me. Why? Damn it, Spock, what’s come over you?”

“I am finally seeing things as they truly are. You are mine, and I will prove it to you. You are concerned over the pain I may have caused Jason . . .what of the pain you caused me? I am Vulcan, correct? I should not care about any other pleasures you seek. My emotions can be ignored. Well, I shall teach you differently.”

“But you’re mistaken. There was nothing—”

Spock hit him again, knocking him back onto the bed. Kirk was dazed by the force of the blow. Spock was tearing off his clothing before he could recover. When he tried to turn to face the Vulcan, he was thrown violently back on his stomach. His broken wrist hit the solid surface and he gasped at the anguish it created, too breathless to even scream. He could feel the bones grinding together and heard another audible snap as they cracked again.

“Please, Spock . . . “ he choked out as the Vulcan ripped away the last of his clothing. “Don’t—”

Spock ignored him. He mounted the Human and thrust inside him ruthlessly, spreading the legs, and seeking the right angle for penetration. The forcefulness of Spock’s act and the pain in his arm finally drove Kirk into total blackness. Spock paid no attention to Kirk’s unconscious state. He drove in again and again, until he was satisfied. He rolled over, his anger uncooled by the violence, and pushed Kirk to one side.

“Now you know to whom you belong,” he muttered harshly. He stared at the unconscious Human for a long time before falling into a deep sleep of his own.

* * * *

Kirk woke with a hazy aura of well-being. Pleasurable, even euphoric. He smiled and opened his eyes. The real world was spinning dizzily. A warm hand touched his cheek.

“Are you okay, Jim?”

He focused his fuzzy gaze on Jason. “Sure, Jay, why not?” Kirk felt an urge to giggle. The boy’s worried, solemn expression struck him as comical at the moment. There was a hard, painful core of aching deep inside him, but he somehow couldn’t seem to center on it, and didn’t even try to understand it. He preferred to float on these other feelings. It was nice. He felt safe and warm and tingly.

Jason leaned closer. “Jim, can you hear me? Can you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yeah, sure, Jay . . .”

Jason sighed. “I was afraid I’d given you too much. I don’t know much about drugs; I probably shouldn’t have given you any. But I had to set your wrist. It was broken. I don’t even know if I did that right.”

Kirk raised his arm languidly, eyeing the stiff bandage. “Looks fine to me. Don’t hurt. Nuthin’ hurts. Feel fine. What happened?”

“Spock broke it. Don’t you remember?”

“Oh. Yeah . . .” The memory came into focus now, but he turned away from it. It hurt, and he felt too good to let that ugliness intrude. No pain, no thinking. Not now, not yet.

“There were some drugs from the ship,” Jayson explained. “I couldn’t bear to set the bone without giving you something. Basically, I’m a coward, and . . . I didn’t want to hurt you if I could help it. Not any more than you’d already been hurt.”

“You did just fine,” Kirk said magnanimously. “Bones would be proud.”

“Bones?”

“Real good friend o’ mine. You’ll have to meet him sometime. Best doc in Starfleet.”

“Jim, are you sure you’re all right?” Jason asked with concern.

“You think you gave me an overdose? Naw . . . l wouldn’t be talkin’ if you did. I’d be in a coma or something, I guess. You did real good, kid. I’m just fine. A little dopey, but that’s okay. I’ve been injured enough times to know. I may be flyin’ higher than usual, but it’s nothin’ to worry about. I kinda like it, anyway.” He chuckled.

Jason let out his breath in relief. “Okay, if you say so. I don’t know what I’d do about it anyway.”

Kirk looked around groggily. “Where am I? Where’s Spock?”

Jason looked guilty. “I went back for you . . . later. I’m sorry I didn’t try to help you sooner, but . . . hell, I’m no Galahad, Jim. I was scared to death of him. I should’ve tried—but I couldn’t. I froze. When I finally got my nerve back, I went to find you. Spock was asleep. I carried you out of there back to here.”

“You carried—?” Kirk chuckled again. He heard what Jason was saying, but the meaning slipped away from him like a broken tube of mercury, evading his grasp every time he tried to catch a part of it. “How’d you manage that?”

Jason smiled. “Took some sweat, but you’re not that much bigger than me, and I’m a lot stronger than I look. Mostly I was afraid Spock would wake up before I got you out of there. We were lucky.”

“Spock . . .” Kirk’s brow wrinkled in an attempt to concentrate. He really didn’t remember, but he thought he should. Parts of the night came back to him like a bad dream, dark and sinister. “Spock.” Now he said it as if the name left a bad taste in his mouth. “That bastard. Using me. Hurting me.” The memories came back foggily, subjectively twisted with the recalled pain. “I trusted him . . . loved him. I was even beginning to think . . . I was almost ready to bond with him! I thought he loved me. What a laugh! Damn him, he betrayed me. He hurt me—” Tears welled up in the hazel eyes. “Why? I don’t understand. How could he do that? Why?”

“I know, Jim,” Jason said softly. “I knew all along, but I didn’t want to tell you. I’m sorry. Maybe I should’ve warned you. But I thought it was different with you and Spock.”

“Warned me of what?”

“Solack, he’s the same way. He acts . . . weird sometimes. Flies off the handle for no reason. He’s beaten me before, badly sometimes. I couldn’t understand it either. Then . . . well, I kind of figured that must be the way a Vulcan treats his mate. The males are dominant and won’t tolerate any kind of sass or independence. You have to toe the line, be careful what you say, how you act. Nothing else makes any sense. It took me a while to get used to it, too. Until Solack knocked me around enough. You learn, believe me, you learn.”

“No,” Kirk said fiercely, “no, I don’t believe it. It’s not like that.” He shook his head a little, trying to clear it. “You’re wrong. Spock’s not that way. No Vulcan is.”

“No? Give me another explanation. I don’t like it any more than you do, but it’s either that, or we have two crazy Vulcan’s on our hands. And my idea seems more realistic than both of them going crackers at once. It doesn’t make much difference anyway. Whatever the cause, I’ve had to learn to live with it. Looks like you will, too. It’s not so hard for me, I guess. I learned to flow with the tide long ago.” He paused. “It’s just, after Marsh . . . I’d gotten out of the habit. It took a while to get back into the old routine.”

“No,” Kirk repeated stubbornly. “Not Spock. It isn’t logical . . .” Then the memories came back, unbidden. Amanda with Sarek— “ _He’s a Vulcan, I’m his wife_.” Obedience, natural, automatic. And T’Pring. Property of the victor. Owned. A chattel. Her only chance for freedom was the challenge—perhaps the hope that both would die in the battle? Or just the chance to choose her own master? Had he misunderstood the meaning of the words T’Pau had spoken to her? “ _Are thee prepared to become the property of the victor?_ ” Perhaps it wasn’t a penalty for daring to challenge; it could have been a warning that her ownership could change.

Kirk’s confusion was intense. Could Jason be right? What did he really know of Vulcan? What did anyone really know. They kept their secrets well. After all, he’d known nothing of the pon farr until Spock was forced to tell him. The circumstantial evidence weighed heavily toward Jason’s theory. But why hadn’t Spock told him? Then again, why should he? Everything was in his favor. And it must seem natural to him. Spock despised his Human half, was devoted to Vulcan tradition.

It wasn’t natural to Kirk. He rebelled instinctively. _The hell with this! I won’t be owned. And I’ll be damned if I’ll be used like this. He can go to hell, and all of Vulcan with him! I’m used to taking what I want, not being taken. I’ve been such a fool. All this time, I’ve let him use me . . .let him be dominant. Why did I let it go on like that? Why didn’t I just fuck him?_ He stopped the thought, afraid to examine it too closely. Oddly enough, he had not considered that before. He wouldn’t let himself believe that he wanted it this way. Certainly Spock had not suggested that option.

Jason sat beside him silently, obviously deep in his own thoughts.

“May I have some water?” Kirk asked softly, tired of thinking; too drugged to think clearly. It was too confusing and too painful to think about. He wanted to go back to drifting in the pleasure of the drug.

Jason moved to get some and held it while Kirk drank. “Maybe you should sleep now?”

“I’m not sleepy,” Kirk answered with a smile. “I must have slept for quite a while already.”

“You did,” Jason admitted, “but the drug—”

“Makes me feel good,” Kirk put in. “As long as I’m feeling this good, I don’t want to sleep.” He eyed Jason thoughtfully. “It’s cold in here. Why don’t you lie down and cover up?”

Jason’s eyes snapped to his, startled. He looked uncertain. “It’s not that cold, I’m used to it.”

“Nonsense,” Kirk said lightly. He moved over slightly. “You might as well lie down. We’ll both be warmer.” The drug made Kirk feel euphoric and daring. His bitterness toward Spock had grown, along with his hatred of being used. Some part of him wanted revenge, wanted to erase the image of himself in the past weeks, needed to feel dominant and in control again. His thoughts were still too foggy to understand his reasoning, or even care. In some ways he felt numb, out of touch with reality; in others his senses were heightened to an exquisite degree. Every inch of his skin seemed to cry out to be touched.

Jason hesitated. “Jim—”

“Come on,” Kirk encouraged. “Get in.”

Jason obeyed, and Kirk put his arms around the slim body, favoring his right wrist cautiously.

“That’s a lot warmer, isn’t it?” Kirk whispered, holding him tighter.

“Listen, Jim, I don’t think this is such a good idea. You’ve been hurt and—”

“Just a few bruises, and they don’t hurt right now. My arm is all right. Don’t worry about it.” He turned Jason’s face toward him with his good hand. “God, you’re beautiful,” he said softly.

“Jim, don’t—” Jason stopped and sighed resignedly, almost as if he’d expected this and didn’t see any way out of it. “I’m sure you’ve been told the same thing.”

Kirk smiled, caressing the sculptured face. “Yes. I never liked it much either. Being called pretty tends to set a man’s back up. It can be an insult. But that’s not how I meant it. You are beautiful.”

Jason stirred uncomfortably. “And you’re not quite yourself right now. You don’t really want to do this.”

“Don’t I? Why not?” Kirk’s finger traced Jason’s lips sensuously.

“It’s revenge, Jim. You want to pay Spock back for the way he treated you by making what he said true.”

“Is that what I’m doing?” Kirk murmured, not really caring. At another time, Kirk would have hotly denied it, but everything was reaching him now in a rosy haze. The words hit a tender spot deep inside, but he chose to ignore it, and the drug told him that was just fine. Feel good, enjoy. No more thinking. He just wanted to flow with the sensations, and he loved the heat of Jason’s body against his own.

“Maybe I just want you,” Kirk whispered hoarsely. “Is that so hard to believe? I love you.” The lie—or was it a lie?—did give him a moment’s qualm, but he’d said it to women before, so it didn’t bother him too much now.

Jason pulled back. “No, Jim. Don’t say that, please.”

“I want you,” Kirk insisted, more truthfully. He slid his hand inside Jason’s shirt, stroking the smooth chest enticingly. “Right now . . . l need you.”

Jason looked into the green/gold eyes, seeing the truth there. Kirk did need to feel loved at that moment. He had been hurt, rejected in the most painful way by Spock. Used, made to feel less of a person. If this was nothing more than a combination of Kirk’s defiance and revenge on Spock, it hardly mattered. His need was real. And Kirk was very beautiful in the flickering light of the torch. Eyes large and dilated with the drug, face smooth and needful, body sleek and golden. Jason knew he was no martyr, and the sex with Solack had been cold and totally lacking in tenderness. If Kirk needed this, it would be worth anything that came after. Once—even drugged—was better than nothing.

He returned the embrace willingly. “All right, Jim. Anything you want.”

Kirk lifted his face and kissed him. His mouth was skillful and sweet. Jason relaxed helplessly as the tongue caressed his own. Kirk’s uninjured hand slid down his body, unfastening the clothing, exploring hungrily. When he was nude and Kirk had aroused him with his caresses, Kirk ordered tersely, “Suck me.”

Automatically, Jason lowered his head to Kirk’s sex, taking it in his mouth expertly. He worked on it for a long time, sucking, licking, using his vast repertoire until the other man was on the verge of explosion.

Kirk pushed him back. “Turn over, Jay . . . please . . .”

Jason did as requested, rolled onto his stomach and waited. For a while Kirk contented himself with kissing the slender body—down his neck and shoulders, stroking the rounded buttocks with his good hand. Then Kirk halted, suddenly unsure.

“Listen, if . . . if you don’t want to—?”

Jason turned his head and smiled encouragingly. “It’s all right, honestly. I want you just as much.”

Kirk continued caressing him for a moment, still uncertain. “I’ve never—I mean, maybe I’ll hurt you. I don’t want that.”

“Did it hurt you?”

Kirk’s eyes clouded as the thought of Spock rushed back. “Yes.”

“Always?”

Kirk took a deep breath. It was time to admit it. “No. Sometimes . . . most of the time . . . it was very good. It was—”

“Fantastic,” Jason supplied. “Yes, it can be. When you want it. I want you, Jim. I love you—I really do love you. I know that doesn’t make any difference to you, and it won’t matter tomorrow, but it means a lot to me now.”

This caused Kirk to hesitate even more. “Of course it matters. I . . .”

“Don’t say it again, Jim. Not now. Just don’t be afraid of taking me. I want you.”

Kirk’s body urged him to agree, but his conscience gnawed at him. But his resistance was low, and the hunger won. But he was very careful as he entered Jason’s body, moving slowly, holding his desire in check as much as he could. It simply wasn’t in him to want to hurt anyone, especially Jason, and he couldn’t forget his first experience with Spock—although he knew this was far from the first time for Jason.

The sensations took over quickly, however, and he found himself pushing in forcefully. Jason arched back with each thrust, moaning in pleasure and encouraging the passion. Soon he found a pace that suited them both, and they fell into a mutual rhythm. Kirk’s orgasm was intense and shattering, and he felt Jason’s spill out against his hand soon after.

They collapsed on the bed, exhausted. Jason kissed Kirk lovingly, and they fell asleep with their bodies entwined.

* * * *

Kirk awoke the next morning, groggily aware of the pain in his arm. When he tried to roll off it, he realized it was trapped beneath another body. Startled, he stared at Jason curled against him, cheek against his shoulder. Kirk ignored the pain for a moment and tried to think.

_Oh my god, last night . . . Jason. What do I do now? How do I explain? Poor kid. As much as he’s been used in his life, and I just had to add to it. Damn, how could I?_

He moved his arm carefully, then inspected the rough splint and bandage Jason had applied. It appeared to be doing the trick, but it still ached horribly. There wasn’t much he could do about that, so he ignored it.

The memories rolled back to him, though, far too fresh to be ignored so easily in the cold light of reality. _Spock. Why did he act that way? Jealousy? Spock, jealous? It doesn’t add up. He didn’t even give me the chance to explain. What the hell is wrong with him? That’s just not Spock. I can’t accept everything Jason said. There has to be another explanation. I love Spock too much to give up so easily. No matter what he’s done, I can never hate him. There has to be a reason for this craziness. I’m missing something. I’ve overlooked an obvious answer._

Kirk glanced over at Jason. The beautiful face looked even younger and more vulnerable in sleep, and Kirk experienced a sharp pang of guilt. _I wonder if he’s even as old as he said he is? God help me, he’s just a kid. What did I say to him last night? What promises did I make? Damn, it’s all so vague. The drug, I suppose. All I remember is impressions. He said he loved me, I remember that. Of course I would; I’m so blasted vain, that would stick in my mind if nothing else. But what happened? I know I made love to him. Me, I made love to him. Quite a switch from recent behavior. Jim, old boy, for someone who thought he had such an aversion for homosexuality, you sure have adjusted damn quick. But what did I say to him? Knowing me when I’m horny, I probably promised him the moon and the stars . . . anything to get my satisfaction. God, Jason, I didn’t mean to hurt you. If only Spock hadn’t—_

At that moment, Spock entered, and Kirk’s breath caught in his chest.

Jason stirred restlessly and opened his eyes, as if the fierce glare from the Vulcan had somehow wakened him. When he noticed the direction of Kirk’s look, he sat up. Jason’s first instinct was to dash away, but he held firm. Frightened as he was of the strength of the Vulcan and the pain he could deliver, this time he refused to budge. It was important now, to his own shaky self-pride, that he keep his place beside Jim.

Spock stared at them for a long moment, his expression coldly furious. When he finally spoke, his voice was laced with distaste. “I briefly wondered if I had made a serious error last night. I see now that I was quite correct all along.”

Kirk stiffened at Spock’s haughty tone. All the questions he’d intended to ask, all the explanations he wanted to make suddenly tasted bitter in his mouth. Anger choked them off. “So, what do you plan to do about it? Break my other arm?”

Spock’s eyes flickered with concern. “Your arm . . .? I did not intend to . . .”

As the Vulcan trailed off uncertainly, Kirk’s anger eased a degree. Seeing the hesitance in the Vulcan’s expression, he tried to give him a chance to explain. “Why, Spock? What caused you to act that way? What’s going on?”

The Vulcan’s face hardened again. “I would think it was apparent. Obviously, you have made your choice. I simply regret you did not make it earlier.”

Kirk saw Spock’s gaze move to Jason and burn with hatred. “Spock,” he warned, “leave him alone. I won’t let you hurt him. This wasn’t his fault.”

The Vulcan’s eyes narrowed as he turned back to Kirk. “Do you think I am not aware of that? What happened between you was of your contrivance. I know you quite well, James Kirk.”

The words stung. Perhaps he did have a history of using people, in one way or another, but it wasn’t like Spock to say it so bluntly and it was totally unfair in this instance. Then again, there seemed little of the Spock he knew in the man standing there.

“All right,” Kirk lashed out, “if you know me so well, then you know I won’t accept the way you treated me last night. I’ve tried to think of some explanation, some way to excuse you, but it all comes down to one thing. You were using me, too. Trying to tie me to you. Own me like you would’ve owned T’Pring. All the things I’ve heard of Vulcans must be true, and you’re no better than the worst of them. I thought there was enough Human in you to make the difference. I was wrong. It won’t work, Spock. It never could have. Stop being so damn blind!”

“That is not true. If our relationship will not work, it is because you are afraid to make the attempt. You have always been afraid. Perhaps even more so than I. If I have been blind, it is in that. I couldn’t see your fear for my own.”

“I don’t need your analysis,” Kirk snapped. “If you can’t explain your actions last night, then get out. Just leave me alone, damn you!”

Spock was silent for a long time, his eyes boring into Kirk. Then he turned abruptly and left.

Kirk let out the breath he’d been unconsciously holding. He had been hoping, almost praying, that Spock would have an answer. Now he felt empty and cold with the knowledge that Spock didn’t know the reason either. Nothing was finished, nothing was settled between them. He hated uncertainty, and he hated the tortured expression he had put in Spock’s eyes.

A hand touched his arm tentatively. “Jim, it’s all my fault. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

Kirk shook his head. “No. I really don’t think it had anything to do with you.” He rubbed his eyes tiredly with his good hand. “God, I want to go home,” he whispered. “Nothing makes sense here. Not Spock, not even myself . . . “ He looked up, meeting Jason’s gaze. “Especially what I did with you. I don’t know if I can forgive myself for that.”

Jason spoke hoarsely, “Don’t say that, please. Please.” He leaned forward suddenly, capturing Kirk’s face in his hands and kissed him deeply before Kirk could jerk back in startled surprise.

“Jim, can you honestly say it wasn’t good with us? That you’re sorry?”

Looking into the expressive eyes, Kirk found it impossible to deny him. “No, I’m not sorry. And it was good. At least I’ve come far enough that I can admit that much.”

“Then there’s nothing to forgive. It’s what I wanted, too. More than anything. Stay with me, please.”

Kirk felt confused, torn. “I can’t shut off what I feel for Spock, no matter how much I’d like to right now. Maybe he can’t help what he’s doing. Maybe I’ll just have to accept it. I’m not so sure I can give him up this quickly.”

“I need you. Spock doesn’t,” Jason said desperately. “He’s Vulcan—” Jason cut off his words abruptly and climbed out of the bed. He jerked on his pants and rummaged around for his shirt, his back carefully toward Kirk.

“What were you going to say?” Kirk demanded. “That because he’s Vulcan, he doesn’t know how to love?”

“You said as much yourself not five minutes ago.”

“I was furious with him, couldn’t understand what was happening with him. I didn’t mean the things I said to him, and we all know it.”

Jason whirled to face him, suddenly angry himself. “Well, maybe you _should_ have meant them. They’re all true, you know. Or maybe you don’t. Maybe I should spell it out!”

Kirk stood and awkwardly pulled on his own clothes, wincing as his arm was jarred by the movement. “Are you trying to tell me you know more about Spock than I do?”

“Yeah. Maybe I do. I know what he’s like here. What he was like before you showed up. I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t think it really mattered, since it was you he really wanted anyway.”

Kirk felt a chill, suddenly positive he didn’t want to hear this after all. But Jason continued harshly, bitterly. “He fucked me, too. Didn’t you realize that? Didn’t you even wonder about it?”

“No, I don’t believe you.” Kirk stared at him, feeling sick. “He wouldn’t.”

Jason laughed, still heavy with bitterness. “Why not? That’s what I’m for, isn’t it?”

“But he didn’t have to. He said the Reeca left him alone—”

“Sure it did, and you know why now. Oh, at first he had to fight it . . . every few hours almost. It’s rather persistent, you know. But how long do you think he could’ve kept that up? Even Vulcans have their limits, and his leg was injured, so he couldn’t run from it. It would have killed him eventually. Surely you can see that. Or maybe you just don’t want to see.”

“But—”

“But what? Why didn’t he tell you? Don’t be a fool. Why should he? He knew you wouldn’t like it, and that it would make him look bad for using me. After all, it was the logical thing to do, wasn’t it? But you’re Human, and we Humans don’t always see things that pragmatically, do we?”

Kirk sat back down on the bed, trying to absorb the implications. All of them had used Jason, just as he had been used all of his life. Even Spock. _Even Spock_. Wasn’t it time he got something back? All he was asking was to be loved for once. Was it really too much to want?

“I’m sorry, Jay,” Kirk said softly.

Jason moved to sit beside him. He held out his hand. “Don’t be sorry. Just don’t leave me. I lost Marsh . . . I can’t lose you.”

Kirk hesitated, thinking of Spock. But there was nothing left there, not the way things stood now. And he needed . . . he just needed. As much as Jason needed to take his hand, he needed to give it. He knew he might regret the consequences later, but now . . .

A few moments later, they were once again entangled on the bed, everything else blanked from their minds.

* * * *

Spock tossed another rock to one side with concentrated fury. The white dust made a small cloud as it landed. He could taste the grit in his mouth, feel it on his lashes and thick on his bare arms. He was breathing too much of it in, but he refused to stop. He needed the movement, the physical exertion, to take his mind from the scene this morning. _Jim and Jason . . . Jim and Jason . . ._ The names rang out rhythmically in his brain with the thudding of the stones as he flung them to the side. One moment he was certain he would run back to that cave and kill the boy who dared to touch his Jim—the next moment he was horrified that he could even contemplate murder. The internal struggle continued, more maddening and impossible than the struggle with the mountain to dig their way to freedom.

Spock knew there was something very wrong with him and had been for some weeks now, but he didn’t understand what was causing it or how to control this violent seesaw of raw emotions. He couldn’t think clearly anymore, about anything. Except escape. That was the one, driving force that kept him going, that kept him on the cliff’s edge of sanity. Last night he had slipped over, his thoughts all colored black and red with sorrow and rage. He could hardly believe now that he had injured Jim or had taken him so brutally. And yet, even now, when he thought of Jason, the feelings rushed back—the jealousy, the sense of betrayal—and he had to fight to hold himself in check. It was difficult, but he could control the urges better now that he recognized them. It had taken him by surprise last night, too powerful and sudden to contain. Totally unexpected and frightening.

Kirk had wanted a reason for it. Spock knew Jim would forgive him practically anything if there was a reason for his actions. After all, hadn’t he forgiven the horror of the Koon-ut-kalifee? But now he had no such excuse for his behavior, and he couldn’t give Jim the answers he needed.

Solack worked steadily beside Spock, with the same type of concentrated drive. Escape had been the older Vulcan’s goal for years, and he strove for it with the single minded intensity for which his race was famous. He hardly even noticed Spock except as another tool to move the rocks and dirt. The few words that been spoken between them in the passing weeks had all pertained to the job. It had hardly even occurred to Spock to say any more, for he suspected the older man was very close to madness.

Now, suddenly, Spock stopped his work and straightened, staring at the other Vulcan thoughtfully. After a few moments, Solack became aware of the scrutiny.

“Why did you cease work?” Solack demanded. “You are aware that we are very near the breakthrough point.”

“I am curious,” Spock replied mildly. “What shall you do when we have managed to escape from this place?”

For a split second, Solack seemed almost startled, as if he had never had time to consider the next step. “I shall return to Vulcan, of course. To my business, my family.”

“And what of Jason?”

“Jason?” This time he seemed perplexed. “The Human? I do not the relevance of your question. What has he to do with me?”

“You have been here with him for a year. You have been . . . intimate with him during this time. Will you be able to simply walk away from him, without even a pause, without looking back. Have you no feeling for him at all?”

“You are speaking nonsense,” Solack said sharply. “What I did was necessary for survival. It was logical, expedient for us both. I find no reason to take it beyond that. He is Human.” He shrugged impatiently. “We are wasting time. Are you ready to continue with the work?”

Spock didn’t answer but bent obediently to help move the next stone. It was extremely heavy and took their combined strength to pry it loose and roll it to one side. Spock was pausing to wipe the dust from his eyes when Solack grabbed his arm in a totally un Vulcan gesture.

“Did you hear? There . . . again? That sound.”

Spock listened carefully, hardly daring to hope. “Shifting sand, perhaps?” he offered tentatively.

Solack shook his head decisively. “No. It is wind. Air moving through the channels in the rock. We are near the surface. Very near.”

Both Vulcans renewed their efforts, digging frantically on the fresh burst of energy this created. In a short time the remaining stones crumbled, leaving a small opening onto a larger tunnel. The air that breezed through it was not only fresh and cold, but laden with the sweet scent of grass and growing things. They stumbled, one after the other, through the opening, holding the chemical torches high.

The tunnel twisted and turned erratically, but it wasn’t long until they reached the entrance. It was hardly more than half a meter wide crack in the face of the mountain, but it happened to angle in such a way to catch the wind and whistle it into the contorted depths of the mountain. Small as it was, it was an ample avenue of escape.

Solack and Spock stood quietly for a few moments, breathing in the free air and looking out over the darkened landscape. The welcome stars glowed clearly in the night sky. “Are you certain you can locate your craft from here?” Spock asked at last.

“Yes. Come, let us go. I am sure we can reach it before daybreak. The darkness will cover our movements.”

Spock caught his arm. “You cannot mean to leave now. Jim . . . Jason . . .”

The older Vulcan shrugged off the hand impatiently. “Do not be so witless. We have no need of them now. They will slow our journey, endanger our escape.”

Spock stared at him in disbelief. “You would leave them here?”

“Be logical, Spock. What are our chances if we bring the Humans? We could be recaptured. Is that what you wish? Is it not better for two of us to escape than none? Where would be the purpose in that?”

Spock looked back into the cave. “I . . . I cannot leave him. If you will not come back with me, then wait here until—”

“No!” Solack shouted suddenly, the echo of it ringing back furiously. “I have waited long enough. Either come with me now or remain with your precious Human. But choose, for I desire my freedom now.”

Spock hesitated, feeling torn and disoriented, unable to make a decision. If he permitted Solack to leave, they would have no way to get off this planet, for only he knew where the ship was hidden. But how could he leave Jim to a life of captivity?

_Captivity with Jason_ , an evil voice in his mind whispered. _He made that choice. Not you. He made it. He betrayed you, it would be justice to return that betrayal. You owe him nothing. Why risk your own freedom for his?_

Spock turned back to Solack suddenly, face hard. “Let us go, then, before we lose the darkness.”

* * * *

It was a beautiful dream.

_Miramanee and he were laughing by the lake, the sun as warm and sweet as her kisses. Her dark eyes were glowing with happiness, and he felt so very free and contented just from holding her hand in his. Then the dark eyes were no longer hers, but Spock’s, yet the feeling was the same, the joy still bubbled up within him like a thankful fountain._

_Suddenly, he felt another pull. Jason. Standing alone by the water, watching them together with a quiet envy. So alone, so needing. Silently demanding a decision from him, a choice. He was sorry for Jason . . . so sorry . . . but he held tighter to Spock’s hand._

_Then, so quickly and horribly, Jason was captured by many-tentacled creature and dragged into the lake. Kirk tried to break free to help him, but Spock refused to release him. In a second Jason was pulled beneath the surface and was gone._

_“You let him die!” He raved at the Vulcan, trying to escape the crushing grip on his hand. “You wouldn’t let me save him! Why, Spock, why? You let him die!”_

_The Vulcan just smiled._

* * * *

Kirk awoke with a violent start. His eyes widened as he took in the cool, white ceiling of Sickbay. He sat up quickly, then regretted it as his head swam dizzily and his shoulder throbbed.

Spock was standing beside the other bed, pulling on his blue shirt. He turned at the sound of Kirk’s movements. “Jim . . . ?”

Kirk’s eyes were cold and accusing as he met the Vulcan’s concerned gaze. “You left him there, didn’t you?”

“Jim, I—”

“You left Jason to die in that cave,” Kirk continued mercilessly. “No matter how you felt about him, how could you do that? Or did you kill him before you left? Is that it? Why didn’t you kill me, too?”

Spock’s jaw hardened, but he didn’t reply. There was pain in his eyes that Kirk was too furious to see.

“God damn you, Spock! Why? Why?”

“What’s goin’ on in here?” McCoy demanded, stepping into the room. He took one look at Kirk and reached for a hypo. “Spock, what’s happening?” he asked over his shoulder as he approached Kirk’s bed.

“I am returning to my quarters, Doctor,” Spock replied stonily.

“Wait, I haven’t released you—” But the Sickbay doors had already slid shut. He turned to Kirk. “You want to tell me what the devil this is all about?” He pressured the hypo into the Captain’s arm, and Kirk lay back on the bed listlessly.

Tears stung behind Kirk’s eyelids as he spoke, more to himself than to the Doctor. “I promised him he wouldn’t be alone anymore . . . that I wouldn’t leave him—”

“Promised who? Spock? Jim, what’s going on with you two? I don’t know everything that went on in that god forsaken place, but I do know that neither of you were responsible for your actions. We discovered—”

Kirk didn’t seem to listen. “Why didn’t he just leave me there, too? I don’t understand what’s happened to him.”

“The same thing that’s happened to all of you, if you’d just listen to me for a minute.” McCoy said impatiently.

Kirk looked up. “What are you talking about?”

“Spock and that other Vulcan were tunneling right through a vein of zeenite. You were all affected by the gas—Spock and Solack most of all, since they were exposed to it for a longer time and to a more intense degree. They were working right in it, and breathing in all that dust directly. It was still on their clothing when we brought the shuttle on board, and there were traces of it in all of your lungs and blood system.”

“Zeenite,” Kirk whispered, and everything began to fall into place. He wanted to scream at the simplicity of it. “Oh my god. Spock . . . it wasn’t his fault . . . .none of it. I should’ve known. I _did_ know. Oh, god . . .” He covered his face with his hands, feeling sick.

“Listen,” McCoy said comfortingly, “It’s all right now. Spock will be back to his old self in a day or two. Solack and Jason are both fine—”

“Jason!” Kirk sat up again, trying to stand, but McCoy pushed him back down firmly. “He’s here? He’s all right? Spock didn’t leave him?”

“Of course he’s here. What have I been trying to tell you for the last five minutes? He’s in the other cubicle with Solack. I’m going to release them this evening. Solack doesn’t have anything worse than a nasty lump on his head, and Jason just has a pretty sore shoulder from those blasted nerve pinches.”

“Nerve pinch?” Kirk repeated blankly. He had felt the soreness in his own shoulder. “Bones, please tell me what happened. Everything you know. Please.”

McCoy looked at him worriedly. “I think you ought to get some more rest right now. The boy did a fairly decent job setting your wrist, all things considered, but you were still recovering from that concussion when all this happened. I think you’d better take it very easy for a few days.”

Kirk grabbed the Doctor’s arm and held on tight. “No. I really need to know. How did we get out of there?”

McCoy sighed, knowing Kirk wouldn’t be quiet until he heard it all, and he wanted to avoid giving him any more sedatives if he could. “Okay, okay. All I really know is that Spock and Solack were able to tunnel out. Solack’s craft had been hidden a few kilometers away. He’d been captured before he could get back to it, and I guess the natives never located it. It was still in working order, so once they found it again, they didn’t have much trouble getting it off the planet. The Enterprise had been waiting for two days to pick up your signal.” He held up his hand to stop Kirk from speaking. “Yes, I know you told Scotty not to wait, but we returned early from that milk run, and Scotty was prepared to wait for weeks if necessary. I doubt he would have left without direct orders from Starfleet.”

“So Spock came back for me . . . for both of us,” Kirk said thoughtfully.

McCoy looked at him sharply. “Did you doubt that he would? Is that what all this nonsense is about?”

Kirk didn’t answer.

“Is your shoulder still sore?” McCoy asked, changing the subject. “Spock said he had to keep you both unconscious because of the natives’ telepathy, and he couldn’t risk tipping them off. Didn’t do any real harm, but it bruised your shoulder muscles from the repeated pressure. Better than a knock on the head, I suppose. I don’t really know why he did that to Solack. Damn near gave _him_ a concussion. I thought it was wiser not to ask.”

Kirk’s eyes widened. “Spock knocked him out? Why?”

“I never did quite get the straight of it. Spock kinda clammed up about it. Best I can figure is that Solack wanted to take off and leave you and the boy, and what with the zeenite and all, the idea must’ve made Spock so furious he walloped him— _after_ he’d followed him to the shuttle of course. Mad or not, Spock’s no fool. Still, he must’ve had a hell of a time getting you and the kid to the ship by himself.”

Kirk was thoughtful for several more minutes, then asked, “Bones, just how did the zeenite effect Spock?”

McCoy shrugged. “Does nearly the same on Vulcans as it does with Humans. The nervous systems are similar, and the configuration of the brain isn’t all that different. The gas causes temporary retarding of mental functions, breaks down inhibitions and emotional control. It’s pretty hard for a Human to handle—as you well remember—it must be hell for a Vulcan.”

“So he really didn’t know what he was doing?”

“I didn’t say that. You’ve been affected by it twice now. What would you say? Maybe you didn’t know _why_ you were reacting as you did, but you knew what you were doing all right. You just couldn’t control your emotions or reactions to those emotions.”

Kirk recalled his fight with Plasus in the mines of Marek II. The frustrated rage he had felt at being unable to convince the man of the existence of the gas. A rage that had, at some point, changed to a killing lust without any purpose or reason. A part of him had realized the insanity of his actions, the futility of it, but his mind had been so clouded with anger that nothing else could break through. The rational part of him had been smothered.

_Was it like that for Spock_? he thought guiltily. _Why didn’t I see it? He has more to forgive than I._

“That’s enough chitchat for now,” McCoy broke into his thoughts. “Are you going to get some sleep, or do I have to give you another hypo?”

“No, I’ll sleep.” But he stopped McCoy before he could leave. “When can I get out of here?”

“Let’s see how you feel when you wake up.”

Kirk settled obediently down on the pillow, but he wasn’t able to sleep for a long time.

* * * *

When McCoy finally let him out that evening, Kirk discovered that Jason had been released much earlier. He’d been assigned to a cabin in the crewmen quarters, but he wasn’t there when Kirk called. He didn’t feel like paging the boy over the intercom, or searching the ship to locate him, so he simply went to his own quarters. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say to Jason in any case. Or to Spock.

But Jason was waiting for him when he reached his cabin.

Kirk pulled up in surprise as the doors closed behind him, feeling the urge to return to the haven of Sickbay. Looking into the wide, blue eyes, he realized he wasn’t ready for this confrontation.

Jason was sitting on the bed. He stood and moved to Kirk, smiling shyly. “I thought I’d wait for you here. They gave me another place to stay, but I knew you’d want me to be here, with you.”

Kirk swallowed nervously. “Jason, I . . .” He had no idea what to say.

“Your ship is beautiful, Jim. Just like you said. I’m very impressed. I expected your cabin to be bigger, though.” His eyes sparkled provocatively. “But the bed is still bigger than the one we had.”

He stepped closer and touched Kirk’s face, stroking the line of his jaw. He finally noticed the confusion and hesitance in the hazel eyes. “Hey, Jim, what’s wrong?”

Kirk pulled away. “You can’t stay here,” he blurted out.

The blue eyes darkened. “Why not?”

“You just can’t. It . . . it wouldn’t look right.”

“It wouldn’t _look_ right?” Jason repeated in disbelief. “Oh my god.” He turned away and leaned against the desk heavily. When he spoke again, his voice was harsh, but carried an undercurrent of pain. “I should have known. I was good enough down there, but it just wouldn’t do to sully your image here. Right, Captain? I understand perfectly.”

Guilt pushed Kirk forward. He put his hand on Jason’s shoulder, and felt the hidden tremors. “That’s not the way I meant it. Jason, look at me, please.”

Taking a deep breath, Jason turned, meeting Kirk’s gaze steadily.

Kirk found it difficult to continue. “I wish I knew how to make you understand. But I’m not so sure I understand myself. I do care for you. Just not . . . not in the same way Marsh did. What happened was . . . well, it was a mistake. I’m sure Dr. McCoy explained about the zeenite gas. None of us were our true selves in those caves. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Yeah? Well, don’t worry about it. It’s not important anyway.”

Kirk shook his head helplessly, hating this. “Oh, Jason—”

“Just tell me one thing. Is it Spock? Do you still love him, even after everything he did?”

“I . . . I don’t know. I think so, yes. But it wouldn’t make any difference even if I didn’t. You have to believe that. The way I feel toward you is . . . different. I care for you in a different way. Like a brother, or a son.”

The tough facade cracked. Kirk could see the muscles in the boy’s throat working painfully to hold back the sobs. The blue eyes misted.

“It is Spock. If it wasn’t for him—” Jason broke off and hugged Kirk tightly, his face buried in the older man’s shoulder. “But I need you, Jim. He doesn’t. You’re all I have. Can’t you see that?”

Kirk held him, stroking the dark curls, wondering what the hell he should do. The door signal buzzed, but he ignored it, not wanting to be bothered with anything else at the moment. He had too much to deal with right now.

The doors slid open. “Jim—”

Kirk shut his eyes, somehow feeling that this was inevitable. Fate was paying him back in spades. He could count on one hand the times Spock had come into his quarters uninvited—and this, of course, had to be one of them.

He felt Jason’s arms tighten reflexively, and he didn’t bother to try to pull away. It wouldn’t make any difference now. In a moment, he heard the doors open and close again.

“I have to go talk to him,” Kirk said, almost to himself.

Jason lifted his head from Kirk’s shoulder and looked at him. “And what about me?”

“I don’t know, Jason.” Kirk said slowly. “I honestly don’t know. Whatever happens, I’ll take care of you. I swear that.”

“Take care of me? You think that’s what I want?” Jason jerked back and glared at him. “You think I’m trying to hustle you? Is that it?”

“No,” Kirk said hastily. “I just meant that I would find a place for you. I could probably get you into the Academy. You’re smart enough and—”

Jason laughed, cutting off Kirk’s plans. “You must be kidding. Me in Starfleet Academy? God, that’s rich. Yeah, I could fuck my way up through the ranks.” His face hardened. “Come to think of it, maybe that’s what you did. Maybe I can follow in your footsteps. How about that?”

“Stop it,” Kirk said coldly. “If you don’t like the idea of Starfleet—”

“Like it? I love it! Point me to a horny Admiral. My career is all in front of me—or behind me, depending on their tastes. After all, I’ve already started with a Captain.”

“I said, stop it!” Kirk grabbed his shoulders and shook him.

Jason fell silent, eyes locked on Kirk’s face. His next words were choked. “Jim, all I want is to stay with you. That’s all.” He averted his gaze and drew a shaky breath. “But . . . but if it’s Spock you want, okay. I accept that. Just don’t try to salve your conscience by planning a future for me. I can take care of myself. You’re not my father, and if there was some of that in what I felt for Marsh, it’s not there with you. I want you as a lover, not a mentor.”

“I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry.”

“Don’t be. I can manage. Now, you’d better go get everything straight with Spock.”

Kirk hesitated. “Jason . . . “ Again, he didn’t know what to say. “Listen, we’ll talk about this later. We’ll be at the Starbase in a few hours, and we’ll discuss what you want to do then. Okay?”

“Sure.”

Kirk studied him for a long moment, then leaned forward and kissed him very lightly on the brow. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, later,” Jason agreed, and smiled his sad, sweet smile.

* * * *

Spock also refused to answer his door signal, but Kirk followed his example and entered anyway. He expected to find the Vulcan meditating in front of the firepot, but he was mistaken. Spock was behind his desk, seemingly absorbed in reports.

He looked up coolly as Kirk entered. “I suppose I have no right to be offended by your breach of my privacy, as I did not honor yours earlier. Is there something you wish, Captain?”

“The same thing you wanted. To talk.”

“Very well. But my purpose when I came to your quarters was to apologize for my actions on the planet—however illogical such an apology would be, since all of us were affected by the gas at the time. Still, knowing Humans as I do, I surmised you would expect some expression of regret on my part. I unfortunately arrived at an inopportune moment. I do apologize for that.”

“Yes,” Kirk agreed. “It would’ve been easier if you hadn’t seen that, but it doesn’t really matter. It wasn’t what you thought it was, any more than it was the first time. But that doesn’t matter either. I’ve come to apologize to you, too.”

“That is unnecessary, as I said. You were no more responsible than I.”

Kirk suddenly moved behind the desk and turned Spock’s chair to face him. “Weren’t we, Spock? For none of it? Wasn’t there some point where we made a decision—a good one? Was everything that happened there a mistake?”

Spock didn’t reply.

“The zeenite isn’t affecting either of us now, Spock. And I still love you. I still want you. Perhaps it would never have happened without it, or maybe it would have eventually. I don’t know. The only thing I’m sure of, is that I will never regret that part of it.”

Spock looked away, unable to meet Kirk’s eyes any longer. “What do you want me to say?”

“Nothing. Everything. Just tell me how you feel.”

Spock jumped up, almost pushing Kirk out of the way. He walked to the corner of the room and kept his back turned toward Kirk. “I feel . . . I still feel anger. Toward Jason, toward you . . . and toward myself. If it is not the zeenite now, then it is myself alone, and I do not know how to deal with the fact.”

“Why are you angry?” Kirk asked gently.

“I do not know.” The words were anguished. “It is not logical. There is no reason for it. But it is inside me, burning.”

“There is a reason, Spock. You are angry with Jason because you felt I chose him over you, that he would offer me more than you could. I didn’t choose him, though, so you can lose that anger now. You’re angry at me for betraying you. I slept with Jason, I admit that. There’s no way I can change it. And I am fond of him in a way. But not the way I love you. And I can’t change that either.”

He moved to stand close behind the Vulcan, but didn’t touch him. “I don’t want to change it. I’m not sure if you have the right to be angry with me for what happened with Jason. I’m not trying to blame it all on the zeenite or the pain medication, although it was all part of it. I needed someone to hold on to, and Jason was there. He needed me, too. I don’t think I have to apologize for that. I just apologize for doubting you. As for being angry with yourself, that’s probably because you’re ashamed of feeling any of it. It’s the same problem you’ve had for years—”

“No!” Spock broke in explosively. He swung around. “You don’t realize. It has nothing to do with being Vulcan, Jim. I don’t think it can even be blamed on the zeenite. It was my own jealousy. I wanted to punish you for hurting me. Jim, I almost left you there!”

Kirk stared at him, shocked. Suddenly he realized why Spock had left Sickbay so abruptly. It wasn’t as he had thought, that Spock was offended that Kirk believed he would leave Jason behind, but that he couldn’t face him because he had considered leaving them both. With his usual egotism, it had never really occurred to Kirk that Spock would leave him. Jason, yes—but not him. But he had. He could tell by the expression in the Vulcan’s eyes that he was telling the truth. That there had been at least a moment when Spock had wanted to leave him trapped forever in that cave.

“Spock?” He wasn’t even sure he knew what he was asking, it just seemed important at that moment to say his name.

Spock closed his eyes for a second to regain control. “Do you understand? I know what I could have done to you. The way I treated you that . . . that night. And I am not so certain it wouldn’t have happened without the zeenite. I was insane with jealousy. And . . . and I feel the same now. That is what terrifies me.”

Kirk thought quickly. “Listen, Spock. You _didn’t_ leave me. You didn’t hurt Jason or me when you saw us together this time. None of this matters. You’re making too much of the dark side of your feelings. It is the other side that counts. Do you love me? Can you tell me that?”

Kirk didn’t think he would answer, but finally heard a whispered, “Yes.”

“Do you still want me?”

A nod, almost imperceptible.

“Spock?”

“Yes, I . . . I want you. But—”

Kirk didn’t wait for the rest of it. He put his arms around the Vulcan’s neck and pulled his head down into a silencing kiss. Spock gave up his protests and returned the embrace The kiss led to a gentle storm that swept them into the bed. There was no more hesitation from either of them. The last of Kirk’s doubts on the sexual aspects of their relationship had been washed away by more important concerns. They wanted each other, and the rest of it didn’t seem so important.

Kirk shivered with delight as Spock’s long fingers moved over his skin in butterfly light strokes. He licked along the pulsing vein in Spock’s shaft, and gasped deliciously as the favor was returned. They explored each other’s bodies as they had not done before—as neither of them had been comfortable enough to do before. And finally, when they came in each other’s mouths, it was the sweetest passion either had ever known.

They slept, and all the other troubles were saved for another day.

* * * *

“Gone? What do you mean, gone?” Kirk faced the transporter chief furiously. “How could he leave?”

Kyle’s face was very red. “I . . . I beamed him down to the Base over an hour ago, Captain. Mr. Solack had departed right before that, and I just assumed it was authorized.” He shrugged helplessly. “No one told me he was supposed to be held on the ship, sir,” he finished lamely.

Kirk’s gaze cut through him, ready to blast the Englishman again, but a gentle hand on his arm stopped him.

“Jim, we had no reason to hold him here. He had the right to leave if he wished.”

Kirk looked at Spock guiltily. He hadn’t realized he was there. “I guess you’re right. I just . . . well, I wanted to talk to him before he left.”

“Obviously, he did not wish to speak to you.” The Vulcan’s expression was unreadable.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Kyle began tentatively, but Kirk waved him silent.

“It’s all right, Kyle. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m sorry. Return to your post.”

They walked to the turbolift together, neither of them speaking until the door closed and they were alone.

“Bridge,” Kirk said tersely, not looking at Spock.

There was an awkward silence which Spock finally broke. “You are sorry he is gone.” A statement.

Kirk tightened his grip on the lever. “Yes. I wanted to help him. He didn’t have anyone, Spock. No one at all.”

“I see.”

Kirk watched him from beneath his lashes. “You don’t need to be jealous, you know.”

“Is that what I am feeling?” His voice was cool.

“Isn’t it?” Kirk challenged. “I thought you admitted that last night.” When Spock didn’t answer, Kirk put the turbolift on pause and turned to face him. “Listen, Spock, I know what you and I have is still a little shaky right now. We really didn’t get much settled last night.” He felt a blush creep up his neck. “Except the obvious—that we like making love to each other. I know we still have a lot of talking to do, and I don’t want this to get in the way of it. I love you, and I don’t want anything to threaten that. Not Jason, not anything. But we do owe Jason something. After everything he’s been through . . . well, I just think we should have helped him in some way. Not just let him disappear like that.”

Spock’s eyes met his, confused. He sensed a deeper meaning in Kirk’s words, almost an accusation. “I am not sure I understand you. Why do we ‘owe’ him? I am not averse to helping him—if he requests such help. And I do feel a degree of compassion for his circumstances, but I hardly think—”

“God, Spock!” Kirk cut in, irritated. “The boy had been used all of his life. We just made it worse. I can’t believe you don’t feel any responsibility after . . . well, after everything that happened.”

Spock’s eyebrow rose. “Please forgive me, but exactly or what am I responsible? I never harmed him in any serious manner. Are you implying that I did?”

“Didn’t hurt— Come off it Spock. Maybe not physically so much, but—” He shook his head impatiently. “Listen, I know you don’t want to admit to it, but Jason told me everything. I don’t blame you. I know it wasn’t your fault, and—”

Spock caught his arm and turned Kirk to face him. “Wait. You are wrong Jim. Very wrong.”

Kirk stared at him. “What?”

“If Jason told you I used him sexually, he was lying. I never touched him in that way.”

Kirk jerked out of the grip. “You’re trying to deny it? You’re telling me you never had sex with Jason?”

“That is precisely what I am saying.”

“Why would he lie? It doesn’t make sense.”

“I do not know. But he did.”

For the first time in his memory, Kirk doubted Spock’s word. It wasn’t that he truly believed Spock would lie to him, but the idea occurred that this might be something his friend could not even bear to admit to himself.

Spock could read Kirk’s expression, saw the disbelief in the hazel eyes. And it hurt, more than anything in his memory. But he said no more. There didn’t seem any point.

* * * *

**EPILOGUE**

It had been a difficult six months. The Enterprise had spent most of it patrolling the Romulan Neutral Zone, sparring with restless commanders of enemy warships who didn’t want to stay on their side of the imaginary border. It was happening more often lately. There was some concern that this could mean the Romulans were gearing up for an all-out attack on the Federation, and they were testing the waters with these skirmishes. The situation was especially nerve-wracking for Kirk, as it was hard for him to feel his ship take bone-shaking hits and then watch helplessly as the Warbird darted back over the line to comparative safety, certain a Federation ship would not follow.

More than once, they had surprised them and had followed—only to be chased back by a waiting formation of Romulan vessels. The last time, they nearly hadn’t made it back.

Kirk swore softly as Scotty outlined the damage. Severe enough to warrant a return to the nearest Starbase for major repairs. Kirk rubbed his eyes tiredly. It was probably for the best. The whole crew needed a week or two of rest; their nerves were played to the limit.

Kirk could feel the obvious relief of the bridge crew when he gave the order to return to the base. He could also feel the heat of Spock’s body, standing by his shoulder.

“Captain, perhaps you should get some rest now. You have been on the bridge for sixteen point eight hours.”

Kirk swung around to snap at him, but the warm brown eyes stopped him. He smiled ruefully. “Right, as always, Mr. Spock. But you’ve been up here even longer. Sulu and Chekov can handle the con for a while. You need rest, too.”

He expected a protest, but Spock merely nodded.

“Mr. Sulu, she’s yours. Any problems—” The knowing Oriental eyes met his. “Okay, you know. Just take it easy on her. It hasn’t been one of her better days.”

Once in the turbolift, he leaned against the wall wearily. “It hasn’t been my day, either,” he mumbled to himself. A strong hand reached out to steady him as he wavered, the exhaustion finally hitting him, and his knees beginning to shake with the reaction.

“Jim?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be all right in a minute. God, I feel like a fool.”

“Because you lost a battle?”

Kirk shook his head. “Because I was stupid enough to get us into a battle we didn’t have a chance of winning. A year ago I wouldn’t have fallen for that trap. I’m slipping. I shouldn’t have let him lure us in like that.” His fist struck the wall in frustration. “Damn it! I did know. I just let him get me mad. Fine, cool-headed captain, I am.”

Spock didn’t answer, but the supporting hand squeezed a little harder on Kirk’s arm. The lift doors opened. Kirk paused after they stepped out and looked at Spock. “Coming with me?”

Spock hesitated. “Do you wish me to?”

Kirk’s voice was low but intense. “Do I have to ask you _every_ time?”

“Yes,” Spock said simply.

Kirk sucked in his breath, the answer hitting the target dead center. “Fuck it, then,” he hissed. “It’s not worth it.”

But at Kirk’s door, Spock stopped him. “Wait, Jim.”

Kirk refused to look at him. He went on in, and Spock followed, waiting until the door slid shut and locked before he continued. “I do wish to talk to you, Jim. I was simply unsure if this is the proper time. You are very tired and . . . depressed. Perhaps the discussion should wait.”

Kirk went to the bed and sat down heavily. He began tugging off his boots. “I didn’t ask you here to talk. But I’m not about to beg, either. I am tired. Too tired to argue.”

Spock remained beside the door, watching Kirk, not speaking.

Kirk sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to soothe the ache there. “Okay, what do you want to talk about?”

Spock stepped forward, but halted again, as if he was afraid to come too close. “The fact that we never talk.”

“Bullshit. Of course we talk. What are you getting at?”

“For the past six months we have studiously avoided putting any definition to our relationship. We talk of ship’s business, we make love, we play chess, we work. But we have never discussed the direction we are talking with our lives.”

“Do we have to?” Kirk retorted sharply. “Would it make that much difference?”

“Perhaps. The security of knowing where I stand would be gratifying.”

Kirk finally looked at him, eyes cold. “If you don’t know by now, why should I—” He broke off. “Damn it, Spock, don’t you think I get tired of asking you every time I want you with me? You’ve never asked me. Never. You should know when I need you, and I should know when you need me—not that you ever seem to. It used to be that way. What happened?”

“I do not know what you want anymore.”

Kirk shrugged. “So what you’re really trying to say is that you can’t ‘read’ me the way you could before. That we’ve lost that little ‘wave length’ or whatever the hell it was that made it so special between us. I’ll buy that. Something has changed. Maybe that’s why these last few months have been such a wreck. Maybe we can’t even work together like we used to.” When Spock didn’t reply, Kirk pulled off his shirt and lay back on the bed.

“Okay, do you have any guesses as to why? Because we’re lovers now? That’s good for me, at least. I like it, and it doesn’t bother me to admit it anymore. But is our relationship ruining everything else? Is that it?”

“I do not need to guess the reason,” Spock said calmly.

“Well, then, let me in on it.”

“You do not trust me.”

Kirk sat up slowly. “What? Don’t be ridiculous.”

But it is true regardless.”

Kirk didn’t try to pretend ignorance. They both knew what was being discussed. “I . . . okay, I believed Jason. I don’t think he had a reason to lie. You did—to yourself even more than to me. But I never blamed you for that.”

“Perhaps not consciously.”

“Damn it, why are you bringing this up now? It was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter now.”

“It matters, or the problem would not exist.”

“Maybe I don’t think there is a problem. You’re trying to make it all seem like it’s my fault. I think it’s you.”

Spock stiffened.

“That’s right, Spock,” Kirk continued. “I don’t think you’ve ever forgiven me for refusing to bond with you. I’ve explained how I feel about that. If you can’t accept it—”

“I _have_ accepted it,” Spock cut in, his own voice icy.

Suddenly Kirk didn’t want to argue any longer. He just wanted to hold Spock, to keep him from slipping farther away. “I’m sorry. I just can’t make that kind of commitment right now—I’m not so sure if I ever will. I don’t love you less for that; maybe I love you more. Because I know how easily I could lose you.”

He waited for Spock to answer, to give him some sign, some indication that that wasn’t true, but the Vulcan remained silent and dark. He needed Spock very badly right now, but he couldn’t bear to ask him. Not again.

Kirk’s shoulders slumped. “Listen, Spock, I’m too tired to think straight right now. Can’t we discuss this later?”

“Of course.” The Vulcan turned to leave, but stopped and looked back. Kirk had lain down again, one arm flung across his eyes, the muscles in his body tense.

Spock went to him. He lay down on the bed beside him, and held the Human in a warm, relaxing embrace until Kirk slept.

* * * *

The spaceport was crowded. Several ships, both civilian and Starfleet, were in orbit around the planetoid housing the facilities of Starbase 20.

Kirk and Spock pressed their palms against the ident plate and passed through the security gate into the throng of people. The area was circled by a scatter of gift shops, bars and cafes, but they waited in line for the next aircar to take them deeper into the city to the hotel at which they had arranged to stay.

Kirk grinned at Spock, feeling the pleasurable anticipation he always felt when beginning a shore leave. And this one would be wonderful; he felt sure of it. It was the first opportunity he and Spock had had to be alone together off the ship in months.

A day ago, Kirk would have been worried about trying it; afraid that a week alone together might mean an ending rather than a fresh start. But last night had made an impressive difference in their relationship. It had been so good between them. Some of their previous understanding and subliminal communication had seemed to return, and had eased the uncomfortable aura they’d been feeling for months. There was a new tenderness in both of them, perhaps from the realization of how close they had been to losing it all through misunderstanding and impatience.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. And Kirk intended to try a lot harder in the coming week. He was very aware of how much Spock meant to him, and how bleak his life would be without him. If the bonding was really necessary for Spock’s peace of mind, he was almost willing to reconsider even that.

Spock smiled back at Kirk and started to speak, but another sound caught Kirk’s attention. It was faint over the noise of the crowd, but familiar enough to cause him to turn his head to search for the source. As he was ready to dismiss the notion, he heard it again—a light, bitter-sweet laugh, laced with a touch of sadness that tugged at Kirk’s heart—just as it had months before.

It took a moment for Kirk to catch sight of him in the milling throng of strangers, but he did.

“Jason,” Kirk whispered, starting forward.

Spock caught his arm. “Jim, our aircar—”

“No, wait.” Kirk pulled away. “Don’t you see him? It’s Jason.”

Spock’s expression became grim. “Are you certain?”

“Yes, I’m sure it’s him. There.” He pointed across the thoroughfare.

Jason was standing, hands on his hips, in an air of defiance. He was facing an older man who looked both irritated and impatient. Even from this distance, Spock could tell he was dressed both expensively and provocatively. The older man was more subdued, in more formal attire and his entire manner radiated wealth and power. They argued hotly for a second, and the boy made an obscene gesture and turned to leave. The man caught his arm, jerked him around, and slapped him sharply across the face. There was no reaction from the passing people except for idle curiosity.

Kirk started forward again with a curse, just as Jason broke away from his angry companion and darted into the flow of people.

Spock ran after Kirk and stopped him. “Jim, don’t. Do not interfere.”

Kirk whipped around, eyes blazing. “You saw what happened. Do you think I should just ignore it? Don’t you know who that was with Jason?”

Spock shook his head, not caring and wishing with all his heart that Kirk didn’t.

“That’s Ryland Colins. His family owns half the dilithium mines in the Federation.”

“What difference does that make?”

“What differ— For god’s sake, Spock, I know what he’s doing with Jason. I can’t stand by and watch it happen. You do what you want, I’ve got to find him and stop this.”

“Why, Jim?” The question was very intense, almost pleading, but Kirk was too concerned over Jason to notice.

“Listen, I’ll meet you back at the hotel later.”

Spock watched him melt away in the direction Jason had taken, then, with a heavy heart, went back to catch an aircar to the hotel. Jim had given him no option except to wait.

* * * *

It took Kirk some time to find Jason. It was more luck than anything else that took him down the side street leading past the little outdoor cafe. Jason was seated at one of the tables, sipping wine and looking slightly sleepy and sensuous, like a well-kept cat. He was flashing his long lashes at the waiter and explaining in a purring tone that he was waiting for someone—and that the someone would be happy to pay for the expensive wine. The waiter looked dubious and decidedly uncharmed.

Kirk tossed some credits on the table, and the waiter picked them up, bowed, and faded away respectfully.

Jason looked up at him through that thick fringe of lashes. There was no shock in his expression, just the familiar mischievous glint. “Hi, Jim. Thanks. I think I was on the verge of being forced to wash glassware.” He shuddered. “Perish the thought.”

“Were you really waiting for someone?”

“Sure. I knew someone would eventually come along. They always do.” He smiled sweetly. “But I’m glad it was you. I’ve missed you, Jim.”

Kirk sat down. He felt strangely nervous. Jason had changed. The brittle glaze of sophistication had returned, only it seemed even harder now, as if anything he tried to say to the boy would be deflected off the bright, airy surface. He wanted to go deeper but he didn’t think Jason would let him.

“Why did you leave the _Enterprise_ without saying goodbye?” Kirk demanded straight away.

Jason shrugged. “I didn’t have a reason to stay. You’d given me my notice, hadn’t you.”

“You know I wanted to help you. I still do.”

“You wanted to butter your conscience. Sorry, I’m nobody’s lost lamb. I’ll make my own way.”

“Yes,” Kirk said bitterly, “and I can see how.”

Jason looked at him sharply. He swallowed the wine he’d nearly choked on. “Oh? What do you mean? What do you think you know?”

“Everything I need to. I saw you with Ryland Colins. I’m not a fool. I know what’s going on.”

Jason’s eyes widened slightly. He was silent for a moment, and Kirk thought he paled a bit.

_Good_ , Kirk thought with satisfaction. _He didn’t want me to know. He really doesn’t want to live this way. I just have to convince him that he doesn’t have to._

“Jim, I . . .” Jason traced circles in the moisture on the table. “Let me explain. I didn’t mean to—”

“You don’t have to explain, Jay,” Kirk cut in. “I understand how you felt. You didn’t think you had any place to turn. I know Ryland, too. And how he would take advantage of that. But you can’t depend on him. He’ll just use you like the rest. I can get you out of this kind of life. I’ll help you, I swear. No strings attached.”

Again, Jason was silent, but he gave Kirk a sidelong glance before turning his attentions back to the wet designs on the table. “You think you know what’s going on between Ryland and me?”

“It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? I told you I knew him before. He’s a real bastard.”

“He _is_ that,” Jason conceded. “But he’s rich. He gives me almost everything I want. You think I should give that up?”

“Of course. You can do more with your life.”

“You want me to leave him?”

“Yes,” Kirk said impatiently. “You must.”

“And come with you?”

Kirk hesitated. “That’s . . . that’s not . . . I mean, I’ll get you into school, or—”

Jason straightened and met Kirk’s eyes squarely. “What you’re really saying is that you don’t love me—but you can’t stand for me to be loved by anyone else.”

“No, don’t be absurd. That’s not what . . . Damn! You must know Ryland doesn’t love you!”

“Yes, I know that. But what you’re offering isn’t much better. I’ll still be kept by you, only I won’t be giving anything back. Don’t you think I have my pride?” It was spoken sarcastically, but there was a deeper hardness to the words.

“It won’t be like that . . .” He trailed off, unable to explain. Then he began again, on a different track. “You were fighting; I saw him hit you. Do you really want to put up with that?”

Jason laughed. “That was nothing. I was being a brat. It’s what I’m best at, didn’t you know? I deserved it, believe me.”

Kirk stared at him, heart sinking. “Jason, I can’t stand by and let you do this to yourself. You’re worth more—”

“Shut up!” Suddenly Jason was angry. More than angry, furious. He jumped up and stood over Kirk, his slim body shaking with some inner turmoil. “Can’t you just leave me alone? You made your choice six months ago, it’s a bit late to change your mind. You don’t know anything about me. You’re a fool, James Kirk. You just haven’t realized how much of one yet. I’m not worth anything, not as a person anyway. If you’d just open your eyes, you’d see that.” Tears suddenly stung his eyes, and he blinked them back. “Maybe I could have been once—god knows I’ve had enough chances—but I didn’t take them and it’s too late now. I know what I am, and I don’t care. I don’t _care_!”

“Jason, don’t—”

“I said, shut up! You chose Spock. You were right. You don’t know how right you were. Now, get the hell out of my life!”

Kirk was too stunned to try to stop him from leaving. It had been quite a scene. The rest of the patrons of the restaurant were murmuring across the tables, shaking their heads in disapproval. Kirk ignored them and rose to his feet.

He left the cafe feeling more frustrated than ever. And more determined to find a way to help Jason.

* * * *

“Did you find him?” Spock asked quietly, illogically hoping for a negative answer.

“Yes.” Kirk dropped down on the sofa and stared thoughtfully across the hotel room. “He told me to leave him alone; to stay out of his life.”

“That should present no problem.” Spock kept his distance from the couch. He didn’t want to touch Kirk now; wasn’t even sure he wanted to be in the same room with him. He hated what was happening, but he didn’t know how to stop it. There was an air of inevitability about it. For some illogical reason, he had expected Jason to appear again like the Terran proverbial bad penny, and he knew this particular subject was far from closed. Until it was, their future together would be very unstable.

“I think you should respect his wishes,” Spock suggested when Kirk didn’t speak.

“I can’t. You know I can’t. He needs my help, even if he won’t ask for it.”

“Isn’t that his decision to make?”

“All he knows is how to survive. He thinks he’s fallen on his feet since he’s found a rich keeper. But he’s wrong. He can’t waste his life like this.”

“Perhaps he is content with his life. Have you never considered that?” Spock’s voice was sharper, but Kirk was too preoccupied to notice.

“I know Ryland Colins. He was a senior when I entered the Academy. He did his required stint in Starfleet to make his political career look better. He bought his way into the Academy—or rather, his family did. Bought his grade average, too. He’s never had to work a day in his life for anything. It was always right at his fingertips. That wasn’t bad enough; he was a bully, too. Pushed all the younger cadets around. Got everything he wanted from them.”

“From you, also?”

Kirk was silent for a moment. “Yes. I hate to admit it, and I’m ashamed to remember it. But he had too much influence to risk offending him. So I kept my mouth shut to a lot of things I know he did. Luckily I wasn’t around most of the time, so he didn’t get the chance to pick on me very much. There are some things I know I couldn’t have stood.”

Kirk didn’t go into details, but he really didn’t have to. Life at the Academy had its dark side, as Spock was well aware.

“He could have changed, matured. It was a long time ago, Jim. He was hardly more than a boy himself.”

“Those kind of people never change. Why should they? What do they have to lose? Besides, you saw how he treated Jason. And Jason thinks so little of himself, he thinks he deserves it.”

Spock couldn’t bear any more. “Jim, will you cease this?. Leave it alone. It isn’t any of your concern.”

Kirk looked at him, startled. Then his eyes narrowed. “I know you’re jealous of him, but can’t you have a little pity? The boy’s life has been sheer hell.”

Spock looked skeptical. “I do not think he either needs or wants my pity. And I have never been fully convinced that his life has not been exactly as he wishes it to be.”

Kirk stood and glared at him. “There isn’t any point in arguing with you. You can’t see this clearly enough to be objective. I think I should have a talk with Ryland Colins myself. It shouldn’t be very hard to find out where he’s staying.”

“Jim,” Spock cautioned, “think carefully before you do anything rash. Perhaps you are the one seeing what you want to see.”

For once his words seemed to get through to Kirk. He hesitated. “Spock, I . . . Please don’t think that this changes anything with us. I love you more than ever. But I feel responsible for Jason. I wish you would try to understand that.”

“I understand very well,” Spock said coldly.

“Spock . . .” Kirk took a deep breath. “Listen, if you really don’t want me to do anything, I won’t. I’ll forget about him. Is that what you want?”

Spock didn’t move. “Yes.”

Kirk blinked. He hadn’t expected that. “All right then,” he said lamely, “I’ll forget him.”

“Jim . . . “ It was almost a moan. The pain was clear in his eyes. “This is the first time I have been unable to believe you.”

He left Kirk standing there alone, both shocked and guilty.

* * * *

As Kirk had thought, it wasn’t difficult to locate Ryland Colins. He was in the most exclusive—and expensive—hotel suite in the city. Kirk’s name and rank pushed him past the usual layer of flappers that always surround the wealthy and powerful, and he was finally ushered in to see Colins in person.

“I understand you wished to see me, Captain . . . uh, Kirk, isn’t it?”

“James T. Kirk,” he answered coldly.

“Yes, Captain Kirk. What can I—” He paused, looking Kirk up and down. “Wait. Haven’t I met you—? Of course! The Academy, wasn’t it? I seem to recall a young Kirk there. Pretty lad. Excuse me, was that you, by any chance?”

“Nice of you to remember,” Kirk said sarcastically. “I see you haven’t changed at all.”

The man’s face flushed slightly. “Uh, yes. Well, what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Jason,” Kirk said bluntly.

Colin’s stiffened. “I didn’t realize you two were acquainted.”

Kirk was too angry to speak. He wanted to beat the hell out of this snobby, conceited creep. He clutched his fists together to control the impulse.

Ryland Colins sighed and stood up. “All right, what has he done now? Picked your pocket, or just tried to pick you up? I’ve had more trouble with that boy than I can possibly tell you. I do hope he didn’t cause you any inconvenience, Captain. I will, of course, be glad to make reparation if—”

“He didn’t do anything to me,” Kirk snapped. “It’s what you did to him that I’ve come to talk about. I saw you hit him on the street today.”

Colins waved it off. “Oh, that. Yes, I’m afraid I totally lost my temper. I hate public scenes, but he can be so provoking at times. I swear, I’ve regretted ever agreeing to take responsibility for him.”

Kirk’s anger drained off in confusion. Suddenly he wasn’t quite sure what was going on here. Colin’s reactions weren’t quite as he expected, even for an arrogant, wealthy man.

“Why did you take responsibility for him, then?” Kirk demanded scornfully, thinking of the sensuous mouth, the soft, dark curls, the huge, thickly lashed blue eyes. The answer seemed obvious. But it wasn’t.

“I didn’t have much choice,” Ryland replied airily. “Somebody has to keep a tight rein on him to save the family name. Much as l would like to disclaim him, he is my nephew, after all.”

Kirk felt the shock all the way through his body. “What did you say? Jason is your . . . nephew?”

Colins looked surprised. “I thought you knew. Wasn’t that why you came here?”

“I don’t believe you,” Kirk said dully, but he did.

The other man laughed. “I’d rather forget it myself. The boy has been a trial to the entire family. He ran away from school two years ago, and we couldn’t find a trace of him until about six months ago. Cost a fortune for investigators to finally locate him.” He snorted. “Might have been better if they’d never found the ungrateful devil at all. Even at the tender age of nineteen, and he’s practically disgraced the family already.”

Kirk just stared at him, unable to move or even think.

“But you didn’t come here to listen to me spill out my problems with the little ruffian. What trouble did Jason cause you, Captain? I hope it isn’t something that can’t be rectified.”

“He lied to me,” Kirk said slowly, as if saying it aloud would help him to understand it. “He tricked me.”

Ryland took that for an answer. “Well, that’s hardly surprising. He’s a pathological liar, I’m afraid. It’s his hobby—no, more than that, his vocation.” He shook his head despairingly. “We’ve taken him to the best psychologists in the Federation, but they just insist that he is trying to compensate. Compensate for what, that’s what I’d like to know! He needs to learn a little family responsibility.”

Before he could continue, the door to the suite opened and Jason entered. He stopped cold when he saw Kirk.

“So you decided to come back, young man! There is someone else here to complain about your despicable behavior. I don’t have to tell you how tired I am of dealing with these tiresome petty matters.”

Jason ignored his uncle. The blue eyes held Kirk’s for a long moment. Then he turned away and flopped down carelessly on the luxurious sofa.

“In any case,” Ryland continued sternly, “I simply don’t have time to handle this right now. I’m late for a meeting with the planetary governor of Lindor. You’ll have to work everything out to Mr. . . . excuse me, Captain Kirk’s satisfaction.” He spoke to Kirk. “If you have any more problems, let my secretary know. He will take care of any financial arrangements or give you my lawyer’s card if it is a legal matter. I am sorry we didn’t have more time to talk. Perhaps we can get together for a drink sometime and discuss the old days at the Academy, eh?”

There was no need for Kirk to reply, for Colins was already out the door.

The silence stretched painfully. Jason pulled off his boots and tossed them carelessly on the crystal tabletop.

At last he looked at Kirk. “So now you know the truth.”

“Now I know. I just don’t know why.”

Jason shrugged. “The obvious reason. I like to lie.” He gestured toward the closed door derisively. “But I’m sure my loving uncle told you that. He’s my latest keeper, you know. That was certainly the truth.”

“Why did you want to make me look like a fool?” Kirk asked quietly.

“Hey, I didn’t ask you to come here,” Jason countered. “In fact, I told you to stay out of my life.”

“You told me lies, and you still haven’t explained why.”

“I don’t have to explain anything to you,” Jason snarled. “I told you, I’m a compulsive liar.”

Kirk reached him in four quick steps, snatched him to his feet by his shirt collar. “That’s not quite good enough! Why did you lie to me? There has to be another reason, damn it!”

They were standing very close and Jason’s eyes were very wide, but not with fear.

They searched Kirk’s face for something, filled with both hope and sorrow. “I really loved you,” Jason said softly. “That was never a lie. Never.”

Kirk released him with disgust, shoving him back down on the couch. “Don’t bother. You’ve already proven your acting abilities.”

Kirk began pacing restlessly across the plush carpeting, trying to burn off his frustration and righteous anger with action. He wanted to shake the boy until his teeth rattled, until he could force at least a grain of honesty from that beautiful lying mouth. But it wouldn’t help, and it wouldn’t change Jason. What hurt the most, he realized now, was that he had almost ruined his relationship with Spock by trusting this cunning little chameleon. It made him sick to think of it.

“So how did you really get on the planet, in the caves?” Kirk demanded harshly.

“The same way you did. The ship crashed.”

“And this Marsh character, did you just dig him up out of your fertile imagination?”

“No,” Jason said sharply, stung. “I wasn’t lying about him, either. He . . .he found me on Venusport, just like I told you. I’d run away from that asshole boarding school and slipped on a freighter going to Venusport—”

“You don’t just ‘slip’ onto freighters,” Kirk cut in, his voice like a lash. “No ship has security that lax, civilian or not.”

“It does if you have the money for a bribe,” Jason shot back firmly. “Take my word for it, money works miracles.”

“I’m finished taking your word for anything,” Kirk said nastily. “But go on. Marsh found you on Venusport, is that still your story? Or have you thought up a better one?”

“If you’re not going to believe anything I say, why should I waste my breath?” Jason said defiantly.

“Because,” Kirk hissed, “if you don’t, I’ll beat the holy shit out of you right here and now. Is that plain enough? Go on.”

“All right. What I said about Marsh was mostly true. He didn’t know who I was. He just picked me up when I was wandering around the spaceport. I’d run out of money. I was hungry. He looked like a good meal ticket. All I cared about was getting away, about not having to go back to that fucking school.” Jason’s voice lowered. “He was very good to me. He really liked me.” He looked up at Kirk, almost pleadingly. “Can you understand what that meant to me? For somebody to like me just for me?

“What’s the rest of it?” Kirk asked coldly.

“That’s all. You know the rest. The ship crashed; he was killed. I was stuck there until you showed up. I’ve never been so lonely or scared in my life. There’s nothing more to tell.”

Kirk stared blindly out the window, not even noticing the fantastic skyline or the colorful splash of the sunset. “So why all the lies to me? Why did you bother with that elaborate story?”

Jason laughed humorlessly. “I’m not stupid. How much sympathy could I expect to get as a ‘poor little rich boy.’? I knew I needed help. I wanted you on my side all the way. I wanted you to like me. And, to tell the truth, it seemed a hell of a lot more interesting than the real story.” He was quiet for a moment. “You probably won’t believe this, but I really wanted to tell you the truth after . . . well, after I started falling in love with you. But it was too late then. I knew how you’d take it. And I knew how you felt about Spock.”

Kirk swung around abruptly to face him. “You lied about Spock, too, didn’t you? He never touched you.”

Jason swallowed nervously For the first time since Kirk had found him, he looked scared. “Yes. I’m really sorry about that. I felt I had to. I . . . I wanted to keep you. I knew you loved him, and . . . and I thought . . . thought it would make a difference in how you felt about him if—”

“You were right,” Kirk said hoarsely. “God help me, it did. I don’t know if Spock can ever forgive me for that.”

“Jim—” The boy’s voice broke and he dropped his head for a second. When he lifted it again, the blue eyes glittered with moisture, but he choked back the tears stubbornly. “I loved you. That’s my only excuse. It doesn’t help anything to tell you that, I know. It just makes me look worse. I told you I wasn’t worth anything. Maybe you can see that wasn’t a lie either.”

Kirk looked at him steadily. His expression didn’t soften, but his tone did. “That’s the worst lie of all because you’ve made yourself believe it.”

“You hate me now, don’t you?”

Kirk shook his head, feeling tired and very depressed. “No, I don’t hate you, Jason. I think I feel sorrier for you now than I ever did before.”

There didn’t seem anything left for either of them to say.

* * * *

It was Spock who finally found Kirk. It was nearly dawn and the beach was deserted. He had known Kirk would be here somewhere, and he had spent the greater part of the night searching. The beach was large, but it was simply a matter of persistence. He found him just as the emerging sun was streaking the waves with red.

Spock fell into step beside him, and neither spoke for a long time.

At last Kirk stopped walking and looked at the Vulcan. “I suppose it would be pointless to tell you I’m sorry. It certainly won’t change anything.”

“No,” Spock agreed. “But perhaps nothing should be changed. We make mistakes. We either learn from them and improve our lives, or we do not.”

“You knew he was lying all along, didn’t you? Not just about what he said about you, but all of it.”

“No, I believed him, too. I didn’t trust him because I was jealous of him. It was not a matter of any great insight on my part. My reasons for disliking him were neither logical nor admirable.”

Kirk nodded, understanding. “So he really made fools out of both of us.” He hunkered down on the beach and picked up a handful of sand, letting it. sift back through his fingers. “Poor kid. In a lot of ways his life had been tougher than either one of us suspected.” He smiled sadly. “You know why I wanted to believe him, don’t you? About you, I mean? It made it so much easier to face the fact that I had used him if I thought you had, too. A very old case of sharing the blame. I was so furious with you when you refused to go along with it.”

Kirk stood and brushed the sand off his hands. “So what happens now, Spock? We didn’t trust each other. What kind of relationship can we build on that? It’s about as reliable as building on sand.”

Spock smiled, very gently. He put his arms around Kirk and pulled him close. In a moment, Kirk relaxed against him gratefully. The wind ruffled the light hair against his cheek, and Spock whispered into it lovingly, “If that is the only foundation we have, it will have to do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in Out of Bounds, Too (1982)


End file.
